Demons and Kings
by JustBecause170
Summary: Sent back in time by a priestess bent on revenge, sisters Carol and Evelyn are in way over their heads. Stuck 3000 years in the past, even just staying alive is turning out to be more difficult than they imagined. Especially when Evelyn catches the eye of the King, whose infatuation with her runs so deep he would stop at nothing to keep her close.
1. Disclaimer

I would like to start this off by saying: ABSOLUTELY NONE OF THIS IS MINE.

I have decided to take one of my all time favorite mangas; Ouke no Monshou, and turn it into a novel. Well try too at least. But, the characters are not mine. The plot is not mine.

I gain nothing material from this. No money, nothing.

The idea to write this manga as a book is not mine. AngelicPretty did this before me on wattpad and sadly discontinued the project, of which I was an avid, if not silent supporter. I do not mean to "copy" what she has done, merely try my own hand at it. And again, I'm pretty much going to be following the mangas story line (sort of), so there will be similarities. Of course I'll change some names, add a few scenes, leave a few scenes out. Let's just say it's loosely based on the manga. I just don't want people tearing me apart because "it's been done before, how dare you do it too" or thinking I'm plagiarising by just changing the names and plot a bit. That is not what I'm trying to do.

None of this is mine. I get no credit. None. All credit goes to the amazing author Chieko Hosokawa. This is just something I want to try out of my love for this manga, and if it ever becomes a problem, I sincerely hope I am contacted (hopefully in a polite way) and we can sort everything out. Again, I own nothing.

Please don't hurt me ok I'm surprisingly sensitive...


	2. Prologue

_Ancient Egypt_

Dawn.

The sun god, Ra, rises far from the banks of the river Nile. His light shines over golden sands, stretching towards the pyramids. He shines upon his people, who as always, look to him for guidance.

As he reaches the river, the sun seems to cover all of Egypt.

 _A new day is beginning._

• • • • • • • • •

 _3000 years in the future_

Cairo, capital of Egypt

 **"In ancient times, Egyptians believed in eternal life. That their 'true' lives began after death. The afterlife. They preserved their bodies in anticipation of this afterlife with a process known as mummification."**

Mummify

[ **muhm** -uh-fahy]

Verb (used with object)

 **mummified, mummifying**

 _1\. to make (a dead body) into a mummy, as by embalming and drying._

 _2\. to make (something) resemble a mummy; dry or shriveled up._

"Through the use of slaves, ancient Egyptians built tombs for their kings, and temples for their gods."

The air was hot, stifling, and sweat ran down my back and between my shoulder blades, causing my shirt to stick to my skin as I shifted my feet impatiently in the loose sand, my sneakers unsuited for the desert terrain. It was unstable footing, and I was having trouble keeping my balance as we slowly but steadily moved forward through the heat. Said situation was not helped by the fact that our group was pressed tightly together, shoulders brushing as we breathed.

 _How_ _claustrophobic_ , I thought, slowly inching away from the person standing closest to me, only to bump into another. I craned my neck to look over the mass of bodies in front of me, catching a flash of gold that shone brighter than the dusky sand around us.

Carol, my adoptive sister, met my eyes above the others and grinned, elated. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and I couldn't help but smile before shifting my attention back to the professor. Always worried about my image, I needn't have bothered. No one was paying attention anyway.

Now professor Browns voice - while not overly loud - was monotonous, and even the continuous chatter of the people around me did nothing to block out the sound. It was almost impossible _not_ to hear him. His voice carried, and he seemed to have a knack for being heard. He moved us forward at a well-planned pace, never letting us linger for too long least a student wander from the herd. I was constantly stepping around tourists, in their white sneakers and cargo shorts, my small stature an obvious disadvantage as I fought to stay with the rest of the group.

Voices babbled nonsense in a multitude of different languages, the sound blending together into an incessant hum, and people took pictures of everything, the flash an irritating addition to the already blistering sun; a constant flicker at the corner of my eye. I pushed my hair back as the wind blew, my fingers leaving streaks of dust where they brushed against my cheek. I couldn't find it in myself to care.

"They had amassed an incredible army, built off the glory of kings. Kings whose power extended across the desert." The professor waved his arm, sweeping it across the desiccated ruins as if trying to brush away the veil of decay to reveal something wonderful underneath. I couldn't imagine it the way he seemed to.

But then I'd never had much of an imagination.

"What little we know we have discovered through studying their ancient script, hieroglyphics, in what's left of their temples, tombs, and monuments."

Our small congregation of students moved slowly, carefully stepping over crumbling walls and slipping through sand in an attempt to keep up with our rather...enthusiastic professor. He seemed to float, and I shot him a rather rueful glare as a friend grabbed me from behind, squealing as she stumbled, trying to avoid the bits and chunks of stone that lay half buried.

Where we were careful, respectful, the others visiting these ruins were spread out, sitting on walls and leaning against pillars. I winced as a tour group of elderly American's swept by. Their voices loud and grating as they insisted on touching _everything_.

Nasira, a fellow chaperon for the field trip with our University's high school program, and a native to Egypt bumped me with her elbow, snickering. "Look at your people! You should go join them, you'd definitely liven up the group." I rolled my eyes at her carefree tone, not the least bit amused.

I had asked her once why such sacrilege did not bother her, the way people treated the relics of her culture, her history, and she had told me in no uncertain terms that the men who built these great things were dead, that Egypt was no longer an empire and ruins were history and history deserved to be remembered, in any way people saw fit. I could see her point. Though I did argue that said history could probably be treated with more care.

I hushed her then, hitting her arm for her comment and muttering half-heartedly on how I'd need to gain a few pounds and find a monogrammed polo shirt before I'd truly fit in, and began to focus once more on the lecture as we moved to a less populated area. The surrounding buildings soon became much better preserved, kept away from the public for research and educational purposes.

I breathed a sigh of relief as we left the crowded square behind. A breeze had picked up, and as we moved, the crumbled homes became further apart, and the group began to separate. I practically shoved teens to the side and out of my way to reach the edge of our huddle, overjoyed to have my own space back.

Although something could be said about the weather, I could not deny the excitement I felt every time I went out into the field for "practical" lessons. As such, I'd jumped on the chance to oversee my younger sisters field trip when the professor had shyly asked.

There was only so much you could learn from books after all, and all of my own courses had all become quite textually based since I'd started to study for my degree.

The air scorched my throat as I took a deep breath, and as I glanced around at the still magnificent architecture, there was no place in that moment I would have rather been. The walls were warm and smooth under my hand and I was struck with an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. It felt almost as though I'd walked these streets before. I would continue walking them if given the choice. I could almost imagine what they had been, had looked like, when Egypt _was_ an empire that was strong and fierce and eternal. When it had been alive.

My pen scratched the general layout of the surrounding area over the slightly dusty pages of a notebook I had brought with me as quickly as possible, and I concentrated on depicting a bird's eye view - at least what I pictured it would look like - before turning back to recreating what I could see of the architecture and script at the bottom.

Hieroglyphs crawled over walls and pillars, they were painted over arches, carved into stone as far as the eye could see, and although the color had long since faded, it was still beautiful. It was still powerful.

"Oh god." Someone whispered, interrupting my train of thought and pulling me back into the present. "Your grandfather's going to go on a tirade Jimmy."

Said boy simply glared, his eyes trained respectfully on his guardian. I noticed with glee, however, that every so often his gaze would settle on Carol, his entire body seemingly angled to keep her in his sights. His devotion to her was somewhat nauseating, and a bit irritating, but at the same time I couldn't help but pity the boy. Carol was book smart for sure, but for all of that, she was beyond oblivious when it came to anything _other_ than history. Like love.

"Students! Settle down." The professor called, waving his hands excitedly, he took a deep breath, the sparkle in his aged eyes visible from even where I was standing.

There was a collective groan.

"All of you are quite lucky you know." Professor Brown chided us at the noise. "To witness these historic ruins! A privilege not many are welcome too! And Egypt, a treasure of history. In every part of these ruins hides a piece of a glorious testament to mankind. A beautiful culture. Violent, you could say, but beautiful. Ancient Egypt was but one of many cultures that partook in ritual sacrifice, animal _and_ human."

He pointed to the wall of the temple before us, where there was a clear, and quite morbid display of priests and the like displaying offerings at the feet of their gods. A cow, goat, food and wine, even a human heart, the body laying abandoned beneath the priests' bent knees. "Now, speaking of this temple..."

"Professor." I interrupted, a bit too quickly to be passed off as casual. I didn't like blood, the thought of it turned my stomach. I prayed my voice didn't sound too desperate as I tore my eyes away from the nearby walls of the temples inner courtyard. The sighs of relief from the other students was almost palpable, I wasn't the only one who disliked the current topic. "I have a question." I turned my notebook around and pointed to a single cartouche, drawn carefully over the bottom of the page. "This symbol, how do I read it?" Looking at it initially, there were no defining features. Unremarkable, almost plain, it didn't draw the eye.

But it was everywhere. Hidden in corners, in paintings, covering monuments, it was not a surprise to see that it clearly marked several of the buildings that were scattered around the ruins of the small village we were visiting. Including the temple before us.

This had been an agricultural town, supposedly one of the many outlying settlements growing grain that was sent to the capital. Carol had drifted over at the sound of my voice, and her short hair brushed my shoulder as she gripped my arm to pull my book closer to her own face.

Professor Brown moved towards us, his glasses sliding down the bride of his nose. "Ah." He murmured, turning back toward the rest of the class. He gestured towards the same faded etching on a nearby pillar. "Fantastic observation Evelyn. This is a royal chop. It reads as 'King Thutmose'."

"If it's supposed to be signifying royalty, why is it not more ornate?" Jimmy asked, leaning over my other shoulder to peer at my notes, as he did so he stretched his arm around me, and I could feel Carol shiver as his hand settled against her side. I shivered too, but for a completely different reason. The press of his arm against my back made my skin crawl unpleasantly. I didn't dislike the kid, but I certainly wasn't alright with him touching me.

I huffed as his hair blew in my face, wincing when his skin brushed against mine for the second time. I was nothing but a bridge, a means to hide his pawing at my little sister. _I feel so used._

"This was a poor town Jimmy, they most likely didn't have overly skilled craftsmen." I glanced at a nearby pillar. "They did the best with what they had I suppose." The professor merely nodded along with my explanation before directing everyone's attention back to the temple wall he had previously been examining.

As the others gathered around for a closer look, Carol quickly stepped out of Jimmy's reach. "Where did you see that cartouche again Evie?" She asked, pouting and tugging on my sleeve when I didn't answer immediately, too caught up in my own musings. "I wanna take a look."

Bumping her hip with mine I laughed, "It's everywhere Carol, at the top of the etchings. Look around."

She rolled her eyes. "I mean, one that's more accessible to someone of my stature."

I tilted my head and lifted a hand to hide my grin. "Carol you're barely an inch shorter than I am."

She looked as though she was restraining herself from stamping her foot into the sand, so I waved her off noncommittally, motioning to a low wall to our left. "Over there." I paid her no mind as she followed my directions, and in hindsight, I could have saved myself the scene that came shortly after if I'd gone with her.

But I hadn't. I'd been distracted.

My gaze kept slipping past her to the sacrificial paintings that her classmates were so eagerly perusing, and I couldn't suppress the sudden chill that swept down my spine. Despite how faded they were, the images still managed to make me nauseous. Even painted blood was too much. Instead, I went in the opposite direction and let my mind wander, hands tracing more weathered hieroglyphs until they crumbled and disappeared, washed away by time.

The class had wandered onto the balcony of the temple, and right below us lay an ally that could have once led to the larger road that ran through the middle of the town, but now led to nothing but ever-shifting sand. A thick wooden pole lay braced over a gap in the temples' wall and ran connected to a building on the other side of the short walkway. It gave the appearance of being quite new, the area around it scuffed with bricks pulled away and the sand below disturbed. I'd stayed by the doorway, focus elsewhere and my back to the ledge.

"Shouldn't you be facing forward to help keep an eye on the class, Evelyn?"

The voice startled me, and I whirled around just in time to see the professor laugh, his eyes crinkling with his smile. Lowering my arms from where they'd been clutching my notebook to my chest in a defensive position, I shrugged, "My bird's eye view sir," I said simply.

"My dear?"

I held out my notebook in response. Curious, he leaned closer, his eyebrows rising at my unfinished drawing. "You're a talent."

"But I got it wrong," I stated crossly, "I had the initial layout pegged as traditional. Squared walls to mark the border of the town, straight roads, narrow alleys, compressed buildings - residential or otherwise. But look, it's not squared, it's like a wheel. The entire town is circular in shape, the roads are curved and connect together, branching off into all sorts of directions, and every single one eventually leads right back here. To this temple."

"Hmm yes." He murmured, "Perhaps not entirely conventional, but certainly clever. All roads to Rome and all that. Can't get lost. But come now Evelyn, enjoy the scenery instead of trying to write it all down. Your personal research can wait." He sighed as I frowned. "And here I was thinking you'd be excited."

A sudden shout cut off what would have been my slightly sour reply.

"Carol?" Jimmy's frantic cry broke me out of my reverie and with a tired sigh, I turned to face the love-struck boy, completely prepared to enjoy the show. "Hey, where's Carol?"

The call was quickly repeated as notice of her _disappearance_ went around our small circle. "Oh dear." The professor sighed, wandering over towards the rest of the class, and subsequently leaving me alone once again. I strolled over to the wall I had directed my dearest sibling to not even twenty minutes before and was unsurprised to find her hanging upside down rather precariously from the same wooden pole I'd noticed earlier. Her face was an alarming shade of red at this point, and her eyes had crossed with the effort of reading in her current condition.

"You couldn't have copied the cartouche that's on this side of the wall?" I asked her playfully. If Carol had one true defining characteristic, it would be curiosity. It led her, and oftentimes me, into all sorts of situations that normally could have been easily avoided.

"Be quiet Evie." She hissed up at me, clearly irritated.

 _"Carol?!"_ He was starting to sound truly panicked now.

"Oh, for heaven's sake. Over here!" I yelled quickly while rolling my eyes, drawing Jimmy's attention. The voices grew louder as they saw where I was standing, even professor Brown joining in as his grandson practically flew across the short distance, shoving me roughly to the side to get to her. I toppled over, gasping as I hit the ground, my palms splitting as I tried to catch myself.

"Ouch," I muttered, sitting up and wincing as I brushed the sand off my palms. _At least he's determined._

"Aha!" I heard Professor Brown laugh. "How passionate Carol. No wonder you're taking archaeology as your first choice at Cairo College, you're willing to get answers." He laughed again, smacking Jimmy on the arm as he bent beside him to peer at her. I couldn't help but notice, as I stood back up, that the old man almost seemed proud of her.

Carol squeaked indignantly at Jimmy's groping hands, swinging wildly as her would-be-suitor worked on pulling her back over the ledge in a terribly clumsy manner. His hands had wandered, and when I saw just where, well, I couldn't help but snort in amusement. He had managed to hook the edge of her shorts, pulling them down one of her legs slightly.

"You pervert!" She shrieked, lashing out at him and dropping her notebook as she tried to pull her shorts back up. I watched all her hard work flutter uselessly to the street below, pages flying. "Let go!"

He only huffed and doubled his efforts. "What were you thinking Carol? Stop squirming, this is dangerous! Guys a little help!" He called out towards the kids clustered behind him. His loud shouts had gathered even more attention than mine had, and everyone that wasn't already reaching out to help had crowded closer to watch, pushing me closer to the edge along with them.

 _I should collect a fee for this stunt._ Blood had drained from what felt like the entirety of my face, and I took a moment to breathe, leaning as far back as I could in the claustrophobic crowd that was all heading towards the possibly unstable railing. _This does not look safe._

 _I am not a fan of heights. Or blood._

 _Why was I on this trip again?_

"I'll fall? Yeah no kidding." Carol growled as Jimmy jolted, her ankle slipping slightly from his grasp. "When **you** drop me." I frowned at him as he suddenly fumbled, my shock quickly morphing into surprise as an innumerable number of arms came to rest around his waist and shoulders, a group of giggling girls yelling his name from behind him as they pulled at his clothes like it was a striptease instead of a rescue mission.

Dear god, they were trying to _help_.

I looked to our teacher in horror. But Professor Brown just giggled with the others, reminding me of a child watching their favorite TV show. "Are you kidding? I'd expect nothing less from one of my best students." He turned to wink at me, either oblivious or uncaring of Carols' plight. I just sighed.

There was no point in expecting help from him, he reminded me of a crazy uncle you couldn't take out in public but loved too much to put in a mental institution. A real dilemma.

"Evelyn geez, stop standing around, a little help if you'd be so kind." Jimmy snapped waspishly at me. I scoffed. His grandson wasn't much better. The only difference being that I would have locked him away given the chance.

I grumbled, lamenting under my breath about arrogant flimsy playboys and vapid professors, not to mention star-struck friends. The latter was for Nasira, whose curly head I could see poised over Jimmy's other shoulder.

 _ **He is so hot.**_ She mouthed at me, even daring to send a wink my way as she tightened her arms around his stomach. I could almost feel his irritation as he cringed. He pulled harder, managing to lift Carols' legs over the side of the wall again, setting her almost upright. I latched on as well at this point, hoping to tug her away from him. Needless to say, he was stronger than I was.

Carol leaned her head despairingly against my shoulder. "My notes," she moaned. All of her loose papers had scattered across the ground, the wind pushing them further and further away. I nodded, patting her back in sympathy.

"Is now really the time to complain?" Jimmy grumbled, giving Carol a small smile before setting her down completely, his arm still locked around her waist and his hand splayed over her hip. His smile didn't last long, however, because, with a final unnecessary pull, the girls behind him fell, collapsing in a giggling heap and taking Jimmy, Carol and I with them.

"Not again." I groaned, rubbing my side, which now ached after hitting the ground _twice_ , and pried Carol's arms around me off with a small but noticeable scowl. I kicked lightly at the girls surrounding us in an attempt to clear enough space to stand up, unperturbed by my own rudeness. I was sent spiteful glares and harsh whispers, but soon enough space had indeed been cleared for me, and I was left standing alone.

I leaned over to help Carol up, preparing once again, to berate her for her childish enthusiasm and utter inability to quit while she was ahead. But she was already up and glaring. And before I could start my scolding, her eyes welled up, and my indignation died as quickly as it had appeared. I knew those tears, they'd happened to me often enough. Tears of frustration, of embarrassment.

"Jimmy, you idiot!" She yelled, "You always do this," Carol ran a hand through her mussed hair, and I winced as her voice broke, "the next time you want to be the center of attention, do me a favor and leave me out of it."

The bite in her words was surprising. Carol was generally all sunshine and smiles. _Cynicism and sarcasm were more my thing._ I watched, feeling slightly helpless, as she stormed away scrubbing furiously at her eyes.

"You're a real charmer Jimmy," I stated softly, sending a sharp glare towards a particular girl lying across his lap, and he winced as she reached up to brush loose sand off his face.

A small angry part of me reared up. All bitter words and no logic.

He wasn't actually trying to help her, he just wanted an excuse to play the good guy, to earn praises. I slapped his hand as it closed around the edge of my shorts, and his face peered out from the tangle of limbs sprawled across the ground. "What a hero."

"Oh, come on Evelyn." He pleaded, "Could you talk some sense into her, I just didn't want her to get hurt." He finally managed to stand, and turning to help the others up as well, sent me a wounded look over his shoulder.

I rolled my eyes and moved away from him. He was the one who technically endangered Carols' life in the first place. Like hell I'd talk him up in her favor. Jogging quickly to where I'd seen her disappear, I turned the corner to find her slumped against a pillar with her head in her hands.

Half expecting tears, I approached slowly. "Carol, are you alright?" I asked, stopping close enough to rest my hand on her arm. She was shaking, but when she finally raised her eyes to meet mine she was most definitely not crying.

"This... this is just so embarrassing," she yelled, kicking angrily at a small pile of sand, "and Jimmy, trying to be a hero."

"Yeah," I agreed, nodding my head serenely, "your boyfriend is ridiculous." I dodged the handful of sand she threw at me, laughing.

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Sure, he isn't."

And then we heard her name being called again, though it was faint. "Carol!"

She blinked at me, as if I'd been the one to call her. "Was that Rodney?" I asked surprised, turning to the side to peer over the balcony. A sleek black car was parked beside the bus we'd used to get here and a man in a suit was scanning the crowds of people. "It is Rodney," I told her. "and his flashy sports car."

"Carol!" He yelled up once he had spotted us. "Evelyn, we've done it!"

"Done what? Why are you in such a hurry?" I called back, but he just waved us down, his hands on his knees as he breathed deeply after his short run from his car to the temple.

"I've come to get you both. Something wonderful has happened in the valley of kings." Like a dam breaking, his words set off a flood, and I was almost trampled in the rush as people swarmed back the way we came, knocking into tourists and pushing at each other. Regardless, I made it there first. Now this was something I was truly excited about.

He continued once I had reached him, grabbing my hands in his excitement. "A tomb, Evelyn. We have finally discovered a tomb."

I laughed, delighted, as he hugged me and spun us around in a wide circle before setting me on my feet. "Could it be?" I asked. Rodney smiled and hooked his arm around my shoulders before reaching for Carol, who had hung back a few feet while she caught her breath.

"Yes!" He cried. "A member of the royal family." His joy was contagious, and in that moment, he reminded me inexplicably of his and Carols father, who was in fact, funding the current excavation. Mr. Lidos' passion had transferred to all of his children, so Carol and her two brothers, and I - by default and adoption, had been learning about Egypt and dreaming of this moment just as much as he had. Everything felt almost surreal.

But the sensation soon passed, and my focus came back as Rodney began addressing the professor, who was huffing and puffing after his struggle to keep up with the rest of us.

"Professor Brown, you must come as well." He invited enthusiastically. "The excavation team funded by our father has finally unearthed a tomb." Rodney's eyes seemed to glow as he shook the professor's hand.

"An ancient Egyptian King." Professor Brown gasped, wiping sweat from his brow. "Why I'd be honored."

The rest of the class broke out in excited whispers behind him.

"Oh, please let us come!"

"Yes, I want to go as well." They called, crowding around Rodney as he laughed, stealthily avoiding the elbow I'd been aiming at his ribs.

"Of course. You're all welcome." Sensing my plummeting mood at the unwanted additions and with my arm still linked through his, he swiftly led Carol and me to his car.

As the others began piling onto the bus behind us, I slid into Rodney's passenger seat, practically vibrating with excitement. Carol shot me a disgruntled look, but there was no way I was going to sit between Jimmy and the professor in the backseat.

"Do you know whose tomb it is?" I asked as he started the ignition and pulled out onto the road. He opened his mouth to answer but was cut off as Carol's conversation with Jimmy drifted up to us.

"Oh, this is so exciting. My first real tomb, I never thought I'd be able to see a mummy this early on in the expedition! And in person, I've only ever seen them in museums before." Carol was rambling, but Rodney grinned and stretched an arm back blindly to ruffle her hair before turning back to me.

"We don't know who it is, I came to get you as soon as I received word of it myself. I thought it would be a great surprise if we could all go find out together."

Even professor Brown was giddy. "I can't thank you enough Rodney. This is one of the things I have dreamed of seeing most since I became an archaeologist."

I watched as we steadily drew closer. The opportunity to see an Egyptian kings' final resting place. A place that had been untouched for more than 3000 years. This was the reason I had decided to attend Cairo University to study archaeology, Carol following me two years later. The history, the excitement, it was more than a hobby. It was a dream. And today it was real.

I had to pinch myself just to be sure.

 **xXx**

 **The infamous valley of kings.**

"Almost 70 tombs have been discovered in the valley of kings, and although most of them were ravaged by tomb raiders, you can still imagine the power these people must have had."

The mountain that loomed over the valley of kings drew closer, the dust kicked up by our tires obscuring my vision every few seconds.

"Really?" Jimmy asked Carol. "They were all desecrated?" I watched in the side view mirror as one of his arms hooked around the other side of her seat, falling to press against her side. She hummed in response, shifting away unconsciously.

"They say only the Pharaoh Tutankhamen's tomb was found completely preserved."

"That's correct Carol." Professor Brown piped up from the back seat and I could see him smile. "Never any mistakes." He told Rodney, who in turn shot her a wink.

"Yeah, Carol," Jimmy commented. "What you lack in personality you more than make up for in smarts." She pushed at his face as he grinned, shoving him back towards his grandfather. I was about to laugh when all of a sudden, professor Browns face loomed between Rodney and I, startling me, his arm held out to point out the front window.

"Take a look at that." He whispered, voice reverent.

The valley of kings seemed busier than ever. Countless cars were parked outside the actual valley, partially blocking a dust-covered sign that clearly read **No Unauthorized Entry**. Jimmy snorted. "Looks like nobody got the memo."

I turned to Rodney, confused. "What's going on?"

Reaching up to rub the back of his head, he gave a sheepish laugh. "Ah, it turns out some of the men on the excavation crew aren't all that good at keeping secrets and contacted the local media." He pulled the car up as closely as he could, considering all the people. I grabbed onto him as we exited the car, a bit afraid of being pulled around by the force of everyone moving in around us.

"It's so crowded," Carol grumbled, and I couldn't help but agree, wincing as a man bumped me with his elbow. I rubbed my side, sure that it would bruise and shooting that same man a glare as he hurried away.

"No kidding," Jimmy replied, pulling her closer. "I've never seen this place so lively." He paused. "No pun intended."

"Reporters, journalists, fanatics, they're all here." A harried uniformed man told Rodney. "Your team is waiting as well." He waved at the furthermost group of people clustered around the entrance of the tomb and we were quickly moved past a line set up by the police as they kept the reporters back. The head excavator wiped the dust off his hands as we approached and held out a lantern towards professor Brown, who was already trying to rush down the tomb steps, almost tripping in his haste. He held out a hand to stop him, looking to Rodney.

"The air is fresh inside the tomb, so there is no lack of oxygen, but for your own safety I recommend taking a light with you." Handing the lantern to the professor after his warning he stepped aside, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"Yes of course!" The professor assured. He grinned and began to descend underground. "Am I going first?" He mumbled absentmindedly, already disappearing into the dark. "I'm honored."

Jimmy followed close behind him, pulling Carol with him. "Grandpa be careful!"

She tugged him roughly to a stop, "I'm going first, actually."

"No," Jimmy replied quickly. "It's better if you follow after me. It might be too scary for you. Here, give me your hand." He latched onto her wrist, spouting off his desire for her safety, and I took a glance at Rodney as her cheeks went pink, noticing his narrowed eyes. _Time to defuse._

I pushed Jimmy to the side, rolling my eyes. "All the history down there is terrifying I'm sure, so I'll go first and if I scream you'll know not to follow." I still had Rodney hooked to my arm, so I pulled him in behind me just to be safe. None of us had noticed that most of the excavation workers were standing away from the tomb, eyes cast towards us and voices low.

"Cursed."

"It's cursed." They whispered.

"The curse of the royal family."

"These foreigners have disturbed their eternal sleep."

 _"And surely all those that enter shall have the curse befall them."_

No. We hadn't noticed that at all.

"Be careful, the floor is slippery."

I snickered, the shadows hiding us well enough that Jimmy couldn't tell where the laugh had come from as he oh-so-valiantly led Carol down the cracked stone steps. Like anyone was going to slip in some water. Please.

"Alright, alright." She hissed at him, annoyed by his incessant tugging.

I could hear professor Brown whistling somewhere in the dark in front of us. The sound an echo that bounced off the walls before fading. The light he carried cast our shadows over plain stone. And the shadows were twisted. It was eerie. If I looked out of the corner of my eye, I could almost imagine that we were the paintings that _should_ have been covering the blank spaces.

The tombs steps led deep and I shuddered, feeling like we were being buried alive as the air became more oppressive. There were no openings along the walls, just the stairs, and the only direction they went was down. The rest of the class had piled in behind us, and I could feel Rodney's hand against my shoulder as the steps finally leveled off to a long narrow hallway. I stumbled suddenly, gasping as something wet dripped onto the side of my neck. I slapped a hand over the aforementioned area quickly, suddenly irrationally afraid. But I pulled my hand back to see nothing but the sheen of water. Letting out a breath of air I turned back to Rodney, who had pulled me to a stop at my sudden outburst.

"It was just water," I said, giving a shaky laugh. "It's ice cold." I purposely avoided Jimmy's gaze and his smug grin.

 _At least I hadn't slipped in it._

The chill stayed with me, sinking to the bone. It was the nervous fear of being watched that enveloped me then; the shiver that works its' way down your spine as you imagine eyes peering out from the dark or feel a brush of air on the back of your neck even when you know no one's standing behind you.

People chattered around us in small groups of two or three, oblivious to my growing unease. Even Carol seemed unaffected, her eyes full of stars even though there was nothing to look at but unadorned rock. I rubbed my neck again.

"We're already almost a hundred feet underground," Rodney remarked, "and yet there's a breeze." He gestured toward a small candle being held by the only excavation member to come down with us. "It's coming from right up ahead." He sounded excited, hanging over my shoulder, and I could hear him breathing, deep breathes to calm his racing heart. Whereas I was having trouble getting air into my body.

Despite my earlier excitement, all of this suddenly felt wrong. So, so wrong. I couldn't explain it.

 _This place._

 _Since it was sealed, nobody has walked these halls. It's been undisturbed for years. The people who buried this king must have left here hoping he would continue on in the afterlife. They must have prayed for him. Mourned him. And now, after all this time, we've opened the doors and are walking along a road that was never supposed to be trodden upon by the living again. Even if it's just a part of our research..._

 _To dig out a king's tomb..._

I felt sick.

"Ahh!" Jimmy called out suddenly, frustration coloring his tone. "It's a dead end!"

Shouts of protest echoed as the message traveled, and I was shoved, rather unceremoniously as people tried to press forward, anxious to see for themselves. And as I was pushed to the front of the group I saw it for myself. A hollowed out, four-sided, empty room.

 _Empty._ "How anticlimactic."

There was absolutely nothing. Just stone walls, stretching up until they met the ceiling. There were no hieroglyphs, no paintings, nothing to suggest this could be the final resting place of a king.

"Empty." I echoed despondently. My shoulders sagged half in disappointment and half in relief. A hand clamped onto my arm - _Carol -_ and I turned to see Rodney placating the group.

"Don't be discouraged. There was a chop near the entrance that clearly marked this as a royal tomb. This is probably just a ploy to confuse tomb raiders." He brushed past his sister and me, ruffling my hair as he reached to knock on the wall in front of us, ever the optimist. "Something's here, I can feel it."

We stood for several minutes in relative silence as Rodney walked around, knocking on walls. While I wasn't completely ready to give up either, I didn't think banging on the walls without qualified excavators was an intelligent idea. What if we damaged something? Or heaven forbid; the place was booby-trapped, and we ended up buried beneath a pile of rubble. I had just turned to Carol to voice my concerns when I heard it.

 _Stone and sand shifting. Falling to land with an echo against something underneath us._

 _ **That sound.**_

I froze, mortified and spun, searching for the hole I would see and the dust and cracked stone that would disappear within it. There was nothing. The seams of the room were solid, well made. And still my heart beat; loud and insistence.

 _Oh dear god I jinxed it didn't I?_ "Did you hear that?" I asked, though no one was listening. It was strange. For a moment it had sounded like something really was falling, but this room was almost unnaturally clean. I let out a shuddering breath. My paranoia had reached new heights, and I pressed my palms against my sides to hide the subtle shaking. Such was my emotional upheaval that even the floor even seemed to tremble slightly.

"Did you hear that?" I asked again, tugging on Carol's sleeve. But still, nobody answered. I gave up on my sister, moving instead to pester Rodney, who was deep in discussion with Professor Brown.

"Rodney, we should leave," I interrupted them, not caring about how impolite it was. "Something's not right." I insisted, and while I didn't expect them to take me seriously – I was young, younger than many of my peers – I wasn't expecting them to laugh. Indignation was soon warring with fear.

Rodney just chuckled and wrapped his arm around me, but the professor gave a hearty laugh. "Whatever do you mean Evelyn, why it's not even noon!" He turned to Jimmy, who was busy staring at Carol from a few feet away. "I suppose if you're afraid of the dark, ghosts perhaps, I could have my grandson walk you back up."

I sighed, completely exasperated. "That is not what I meant." I shrugged off Rodney's arm. _Why doesn't anyone ever listen to me?_ "And I'd thank you very much to abstain from laughing at me, it's completely unnecessary." The professor gaped at my tone, turning to my brother in offense, but before Rodney could lecture me about proper etiquette for a young lady - in a perfect rendition of our mother I was sure - the floor beneath us began to crack, the sound overly loud in the small space.

The ground beneath us shook ominously, and people began to panic, rushing towards the stairs in a frenzy.

I stood still, watching the chaos around me and I groaned, "This is not going to end well."

 **The floor caved.**

Luckily, we didn't have far to fall, and the impact was more shocking than it was actually painful. I heard Carol scream from somewhere behind me and pitied whoever was close enough to her to receive the brunt of her hysterics. But I didn't spend too much time worrying over her, Professor Browns earlier accusations had indeed been correct; while I was normally much more stubborn than was strictly healthy and cowardice was not a word associated in my vocabulary, the dark did in fact, freak me out.

It wasn't so much the dark that unnerved me, rather what could be in it. Like bugs or rats or a whole host of things with unnatural beady eyes. I shuddered.

Carols screams eventually began dying down to keening wails. The others had begun to groan around me, yelling out to see if anyone had been seriously injured. "Ugh," someone grumbled, "shut her up please."

"Ow, ow Carol stop!" Jimmy cried somewhere to my right. "That's going to bruise, not to mention what you've done to my neck."

All he got from her a series of illegible noises.

"Just find a light."

The next several minutes were spent bumping into other people, rubble, and objects that seemed to rise off the ground and form shapes, that to me, almost appeared sinister. I pulled myself along the ground slowly, my hand hovering over the ground as I waved it back and forth, brushing away loose stone while I looked for a flashlight or even the lantern.

Eventually, the pads of my fingers grazed smooth stone, and I followed its path upward. It was long, stretching farther than the span of my arm and at least a quarter of my height. I sat back, pulling myself up to my knees, eyes straining in the dark. I traced the outside curiosity, fear making me bold.

There seemed to be grooves carved into the side. They weren't hieroglyphics, it felt curved and ridged, and cool under my palm. Moving my hand up I found a corner, and my fingers curled against the edge. My heart began to pound as I continued to trace vertically with my fingertips until hitting an empty space that continued as far as I could extend my arm without moving. Thoughts of things that go bump in the night shoved aside, I was still hesitant to put my hand inside.

I gently moved to hover over what I assumed the open space was. _Please don't hit an uncovered mummy,_ I prayed desperately. My eyes shut even in the dark, I took the risk and gave a silent exhale of relief as my fingers hit yet another casing – cold and defiantly not stone. _Is this what I think it is?_ Moving along the edge, I made sure my palm was pressed firmly to the surface. The others were still shuffling around, so the sound of my foot hitting something that wasn't rock was almost indistinguishable. I bent down slowly, my fingers closing over a plastic cylinder. _A flashlight._ But I didn't turn it on. Not then. Not yet.

I wanted to be sure, and as I came to a stop where the surface beneath me began to curve, I spread out my hand completely. And I didn't need a light to know what we had finally found.

The cool metal was smooth, and the features impossible to misinterpret. A mouth, a nose, and painted eyes. If it hadn't been so cold it could have almost been real. Edges of cheekbones that lead down to a sharp jaw and chin. I jumped, startled, as the sound of shouting picked up from the previous grumbles, breaking me out of my reverie, and as several lights lit up the darkness around us I flicked mine on as well, shining the light down to where my hand lay still against a carved cheek. _Beautiful_.

Rodney laughed behind me. "Look at this!" He sounded awed, almost reverent. But I did not turn. I couldn't look away. My throat had closed up, and the sudden urge to cry caught me off guard. A few tears fell and seemed to glow in the dim lighting as they rolled over the gold covering to settle in the corner of one painted eye.

Rodney came to stand next to me, settling his hand against my back as he followed my gaze.

"We've found the tomb."

I should have been happy, over the moon really. This was what all of us, what my entire family had been waiting for.

 _So why did I feel so awful?_


	3. Chapter 1

After the initial excitement, most of the others were asked to leave to make room for the cleaning crew that was going to help clear away the rubble. They had whined in protest but gave in eventually when professor Brown told them we'd be working with some of what was going to be pulled up from the tomb tomorrow as a much more exciting 'practical' lesson. I personally, was having a hard time telling if I felt thrilled or sick. I had watched as people swarmed over the small room, voices echoing harshly in the still air. My throat was still closed up, my lungs painfully constricted. It had all felt so wrong. Carol stood beside me, she and I having been asked if we could 'please stay out of the way' while the men cleared things up.

As usual.

Most of the smaller treasures and artifacts had been removed already, waiting safely on trucks outside the tomb and bound for the museum. The mummy would be taken out last and would have to be handled carefully to prevent damaging the body. The thought made my heart beat painfully inside my chest. Distant chatter broke me out of my own thoughts, however, and the sound of static was enough to make me flinch. It sounded so unnatural here, almost grating with how the noise bounced off the walls.

Rodney had kept a small radio with him, ever resourceful, and had signaled to the police waiting outside when it became clear that we couldn't leave the tomb without help, and after they had chased away the reporters, they came as quickly as they could. A ladder was lowered, and I waved as the class filed out, chattering amongst themselves. The police congratulated Rodney, Carol and I, and I overheard several remarks on how this discovery would surely boost Egypt's economy. I smiled thinly, sending up a silent prayer that none of the artifacts were left unattended while within reach of this particular police detail. By the gleam in their eyes, the only economy they were interested in improving was their own. Several others had nodded, voicing their agreements, promises of celebrations floating around in the festive, if not slightly stuffy air.

 _But not everyone agrees._

My uneasy eyes had wandered several times to a group of Egyptian officials standing by the ladder, who had come down before the police and now stood off to the side - an oddity in their pressed suits - away from all the activity. Their sour mood was a stain, and it was spreading, I could see the unease in the eyes of some of our own hired employees, people I had worked with during this expedition, who had been just as excited as we were with this discovery. Their enthusiasm dimmed by harsh, superstitious words.

I remember thinking dryly to myself that they were sucking all the life out of the room. Not to mention the way they had glared at me like I was a bug and had continued to do after I had said hello was giving me a headache. They had immediately suggested to Rodney that the tomb should be set right again and resealed. And while they made some compelling, if not disturbing points, Rodney was not detoured. And from where I stood, an almost invisible presence next to my sisters' vibrant excitement and chatter, I was surprised to find my loyalties not exactly lining up as I'd previously thought they would.

I agreed with them. Vaguely. On a few points.

We blanched at the thought of exhuming our own dead, how was this any different?

Perhaps they were right, something felt off, _and nobody else seemed to notice._ Which would have been helpful or at least given me some peace of mind; it was discerning being the only one worried. I frowned, a sudden thought striking me. The officials had repeatedly mentioned a curse, but when I had asked they had suddenly gone quiet.

 _It was all quite suspicious._

The crew steadily sent down lights, big hulking monstrosities that cast everything in a harsh, almost medical white light. It took away some of the magic, being able to see everything so clearly; the flaws and cracks and peeling paint. Carol, Jimmy and I had been the only students allowed to stay, and we were careful not to get in the way as the professor and my brother fawned over everything like two young schoolboys. I had remained beside the sarcophagus, one hand on the rim, not quite willing to leave. Something kept me there, a feeling, like that was where I was supposed to be. Which was rather stupid, I convinced myself later – my obsession was obviously getting out of hand.

We were left alone for the most part, and I watched as everything was meticulously marked and organized before being lifted out. It seemed to only take a few seconds for someone's entire life to be put into boxes and taken away. The tomb no longer felt like a tomb. Someone's final resting place. It looked so different empty. The room itself was small, especially when compared to some of the other Pharaohs that had been found in the valley of kings. Like Ramses II, whose own tomb held approximately 150 rooms and corridors. He supposedly had chambers built for his estimated 52 sons, but it had never been confirmed. The idea, however; the sentiment of being surrounded by your family even after death was a bit heart-warming.

This mummy was all alone.

And while his tomb was not overly large it was, however, extremely lavish. Nothing seemed to have been taken or disturbed in all the time he had been entombed here, other than what we had fallen on, of course. It was as if I had gone back in time, as much as anyone could have.

I smiled as I admired the care that had been put into every corner of this room. He had been well loved.

"He is so young. He looks our age." Carol whispered to me, conscious of her voice traveling. "Did you know that the masks of the sarcophagi were made in the image of those who died when they were alive." She turned to repeat her sentiment to Jimmy and I sighed, despondent. _He's beautiful... I wonder what he must have been like._

I brushed my hair out of my face as it swung down to hang in front of my eyes. And as I tilted my head, a flicker of purple caught my eye, peeking out from behind the kings' head. I reached down hesitantly, my fingers curling around something dry and fragile. Before I could pull it out, however, Carol flew into my side, scrambling to get away from Jimmy who unnerved by her fixation on the dead king, had lunged to pull her into his arms and catch her attention. She'd bumped me rather harshly, and I'd ended up almost falling into the hallowed stone, both my hands coming to rest against the gold casing as I tried to right myself.

Keeping one arm firmly curled around myself, my other went to curl around Carol's shoulder as I coughed lightly, trying to diffuse the sudden tension that crackled after her rather abrupt refusal and my near accident with a coffin. My cheeks turned an embarrassing shade of pink and I pressed my free hand against my heart, feeling it beat erratically.

 _They should really just kiss and get this all over with._

The silence that followed was heavy and grating.

"Why so serious you two?" Jimmy eventually asked. He came to stand between us and nudged my arm with his own, his expression light, following my lead. But his grin faded when neither Carol nor I responded right away. My hand had been drawn back to what I had assumed was dried flowers, skimming gently over the fragile stems resting in the empty space. The movement stirred the air, and the smell of flowers momentarily covered everything else. Familiar, and sad. I could feel my eyes water again, and I fought back the tears. How many times was I going to cry in the span of a few hours?

I needed to pull myself together.

Even Carol sighed as I lifted up the small bouquet. "How romantic."

My heart hurt, my abrupt mournful mood hitting me like a ton of bricks. I sniffled and turned away, embarrassed, but then Rodney called my name, and the pain disappeared as his previously unnoticed and slightly infectious atmosphere took over.

"Evie, Carol. I'm sending a message to father in America as soon as possible." Rodney linked our arms through his, eyes bright and shining. "But for now, we must allow these good people to finish their work." He grinned, practically shoving me towards the ladder after our younger sister.

I lost my grip on the flowers, dropping them back into the sarcophagus and silently mourned its loss. I wanted to turn back, it somehow seemed important, like looking at it would bring back a memory, something sitting at the edge of my consciousness. But that was impossible, right?

 _I've been breathing in too much of this dust._

I shook it off – it was probably nothing. I looped my arm through Rodney's, holding him back so I could go up the ladder before him. "Ladies first," I said. He huffed but let me go up anyway.

I didn't look back as we left, and I don't think anyone else did either. We should have. It would have saved so much pain. But we didn't. All the shiny gold and beautifully crafted furnishings were infinitely more interesting than the walls' faded paintings after all. _They'll be examined later_ , I'd told myself, my eyes focused on the sarcophagus they'd pulled out soon after we'd exited. I hadn't given it another thought.

No one did, none of us saw the curse written on the wall.

Plain hieroglyphics, I'd been told later, the area around them bare. There was no decoration, no painting, nothing that drew the eye. Dark cracks wove their way around the entirety of the script, and came to a stop down near the floor, where a simple cartouche was carved.

No grandeur, it was hardly bigger than my thumb. And all it read was Isis. Hidden in a shadowed corner, it was outshone by everything else inside. It was forgotten, invisible, lost in time.

 _I should have been paying more attention. We all should have._

Walking up the stairs seemed to take less time than walking down them. And although I was gasping at the end, I breathed a sigh of relief as I met open air. _I should really work out more. I mean really. This was getting out of hand._ Running seemed useless if my stamina only lasted a few seconds. What was the point if I could only travel short distances before wanting to die? But I digress.

Most of the other vehicles had left already and a black car was already waiting for us at the curb. We'd been underground much longer than I had originally assumed. The sun was setting.

"Come on," Rodney came up behind me holding Carol's hand. "They're taking the mummy to the museum now, so that's where we're going." He pointed behind us, where Jimmy and his grandfather were climbing into a truck, the sarcophagus being set carefully into the back. "Aren't you two excited?"

"Yes," I answered, only partially overshadowed by Carol's squeal. "I have a feeling a whole new chapter is opening up for us, and I don't think anything is ever going to be the same."

If only I had known then how true that was.

He put the car in drive.

 **xXx**

The museum was full to burst, and despite how disorienting and dangerous the crowded floor felt, everything was moved, set, and examined with the utmost care. It had been a chore to push past the viewing area and into where all the research and the newest acquisitions were kept. But the struggle was worth it. I was bombarded almost immediately by Carol's classmates, and even a few of my own, my own voice reaching a level only heard by dogs as we all squealed over the gems and jewels uncovered. Sure, we got some glances. The none too flattering kind. But this was arguably one of the most exciting days of my life, I deserved to squeak and giggle. After all, weren't diamonds a girl's best friend?

Sue me.

There were several things I hadn't been able to see inside the tomb while it was being cleaned and examined, and I was unashamed to say I was finally the one who had stars dancing in my eyes as I wandered around, ducking under arms and peering over shoulders. If I hadn't thought the mummy a king before, I surely did now. The actual wealth that had been brought up was overwhelming, and an almost perfectly preserved crown stood polished and proud on a stand next to the sarcophagus as testament. The mummy itself was practically dripping with gold, covered in jewelry, with various charms peeking out from beneath his bandages.

Said mummy was carefully being lifted out of the outer box and being placed on an adjacent table. As interesting as it was, I had shuddered at the thought of handling the dead, even if gloves were involved. It was quickly surrounded.

While I was still burning with curiosity – I mean come on, who in this room wasn't? – my interest was diverted to the now empty box. The sudden urge to cry was back, and in the back of my mind, I wondered if perhaps it was that time of the month. I normally wasn't this emotional. Rubbing my eyes, I walked with purpose to look down into the casing. Dark thoughts aside, my hand closed around the fragile stems of the dried flowers, my relief at the fact that they were whole and undamaged by my carelessness soon overshadowed by that surprisingly nostalgic feeling of familiarity. A few faded petals fell as I cradled the blossoms in my hand. I was content to hold them, wallowing in the thoughts of who might have left them there, resting beside a king.

Perhaps someone who loved him.

"He did indeed die young!"

The sea of people around the body parted briefly, and I caught a glimpse of the professor, red-faced and exuberant clutching tightly onto the sleeve of one of the lab technicians. His loud shout drew the attention of most everyone in the room, and he carried on, oblivious to his growing audience.

"Only eighteen years old! I wonder, was he a benevolent pharaoh, loved by all?" He chortled, his elbow digging into the technicians' side. "Or a cruel, spoiled boy not fit to wear a crown?"

Which indeed?

 _We were the same age._

The thought of dying so early on in life was unnerving. I pitied the young king.

As the exhilaration faded over time and the room cleared out, quiet settled over those that were left. A few of the more invested students had stayed along with Carol and I and were mingling around about the room. Nasira rushed over the moment she noticed I was alone, a stone tablet clutched tightly in her arms. Before I could scold her for touching things she shouldn't, it was shoved into my own arms and I flailed for a few terrifying seconds before getting a solid grip. My glare went unnoticed as she talked a mile a minute, her curly hair almost crackling in the wake of her discovery.

"Evie check this out!" She crowed. She pitched her voice low, her arms raising above her head to make her look like a ghoul. "It's a curse." Her eyes sparkled at the thought of something so terrifying. "I love a good scary story." Unimpressed, I looked down at the plain stone in my hands, the hieroglyphs not seeming all that intimidating.

"A curse," Carol breathed, excited, "how creepy."

"I'm shaking," I said dryly. The clay was cool, and I wrapped my arm more firmly around it as security began to herd us back towards the lobby. "Nasira, I don't think I'm allowed to take this." Feeling a bit uncomfortable I tried to turn around, only to have Rodney stop me.

"Don't be ridiculous Evie, as long as you return it, I'm sure father won't mind. Besides," He grinned, his elbow digging painfully into my side, "maybe you'll decipher something ground-breaking." The lights turned off behind us, and I could hear the locks clicking into place. It echoed in the new-found silence, bringing with it a sense of expectation.

It was after that that things really started to get interesting.

I was honest to god hopeless. Hapless even – a lost cause. Though because of certain unforeseen circumstances, I preferred the term disoriented.

But really, that type of screaming was just unnatural.

I had almost thought it was a nightmare. Terrifying screaming had become an almost constant background music to the misguided orchestra that was, unfortunately, my current mental state. But that was a different matter altogether. There was a very distinct reason this time however, that these screams disturbed me even more than they usually did. They didn't stop when I woke up.

 _"It's gone! It's all gone!"_

And of course, with such piercing shrieks disturbing my not so restful night's sleep, I did what any eighteen-year-old would do. I ran to find my parents. But as it was the middle of the night, and rather dark, I bumbled around my room for a few agonizing seconds. Thank god it _was_ dark because those were not some of my best moments. As my hand finally closed over the door handle, I tripped in my hast to leave, my robe getting caught on the edge of my desk as I hurried out the door. I was too far gone to hear the crash behind me.

The lights were on in the kitchen, which led towards the living room. I skidded around the corner, clearing the hallway before slipping across the floor, the back of the couch catching my stomach and knocking the air out of me as I ran into it head first. Forgetting how to breathe, I stood in silence while I tried to pull air into my unresponsive lungs. My rather abrupt entrance and lack of noise meant I went mostly unnoticed, a police officer by the door the only one to send a confused, and slightly worried look my way for my graceless appearance. The rest of my family was far too used to my 'antics' to really notice or care.

Rodney, Carol, and their mother all sat distraught as the other officer continued with whatever she'd been saying before I'd arrived.

"They broke in earlier tonight." She told them. Mrs. Lido was pale, and her hands shook where they clutched at Carol's. I moved to take the seat next to them, noticing with growing dread the tears dripping down Carol's cheeks. "Most of the jewelry was taken, as well as..." Pausing uncomfortably, the officer turned to look at her partner, who stood by the door looking anxious to leave and would not meeting our eyes. I tuned out at the extended pause and turned to face my brother.

"What's going on?" I whispered uneasily. Rodney had his head in his hands, his hair pulled and parted like he had been running his fingers through it. He looked awful; tired and drained like all the world was resting on his shoulders. I wasn't looking my best either, but that was beside the point. Our housekeeper Trine had come in with tea and scones for our...guests. She tutted at my state of dress but left me be as she went to stand with the policemen at the door.

"They took everything." He whispered back, sounding just as tired as we all looked. "Someone broke into the museum after we left Evie."

The police officer cleared her throat, her expression pensive as she fiddled with the teacup in her hands. "Ma'am they tried to take the mummy."

"What?"

My head turned so fast I was almost positive the crack I heard was it breaking. At the sudden increase in attention, the officer looked cowed. "They took the mummy?" Mrs. Lido repeated.

"No no!" The officer hurried to correct her. "They _tried_ , and failed, but I'm afraid there were some damages to the body. Your team at the museum fixed everything up the best they could..."

"Oh, dear god." Mrs. Lido groaned, gripping Carol even tighter. She turned to face Rodney, "What am I going to tell your father?"

 **xXx**

The next hour left me sleep-muddled and confused. The police took statements, and then left for the museum to continue the investigation. Trine had made me a cup of coffee, the thought of sleeping a now nonexistent prospect. But no matter how bad I felt, it couldn't possibly compare to how completely horrid Rodney must have been feeling. I could still hear him pacing in the next room, his conversation with our father long over.

He and our eldest brother Ryan would be arriving in the morning, hopefully to sort out this catastrophe and get the excavation back on track.

"They trusted me with this."

I jumped, startled, and a bit of coffee splashed over the edge of my cup and onto my hand. I always forgot how well sound carried in this big empty house. I could hear everything from the living room and after jumping around for a minute and putting my hand under cold water, I found it a lot easier to concentrate their conversation.

"Go to bed Rodney." I heard a soft sigh. "You could not have predicted this."

I could hear her shuffle out of the living room, leaving my brother and entering the kitchen, heading towards me. Her slippers slid over the wooden floorboards before stopping beside me. I didn't look up as she walked, but kept my head down, eyes focused on the marble counter. Her hand smoothed over my hair, a rare display of motherly affection that I normally wasn't privy to.

"You too. Get some sleep." She grabbed my hand, tugging me out of my chair and pushing my coffee towards the sink. "I'll walk you back to your room. Don't worry about the exhibit; it is the polices' problem now." I rolled my eyes but followed, careful not to trip over the hem of my nightdress.

The hallway didn't look as shadowed as it had before in my fear-induced haze. It's funny how the dark seems so much less intimidating when you're with someone else.

"Goodnight... mom." I waved after her as she left me at the door to my bedroom, watching as she trailed around the corner, most likely going to check on Carol before going to bed herself. "Right." I could feel a headache forming right behind my eyes, and I pressed my hands against them to stop the pain. _Don't worry._

Like that was possible.

And as I opened my door and turned on the light, I found I had one more thing to worry about.

"You have got to be kidding me!" I wailed. Stuck in my spot, I took a moment to breathe. _I have to fix this._ I turned and dashed back towards the kitchen, heart in my throat. I would need glue and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.

Tonight was going to be a long night.

 **xXx**

Back across the desert, in a now empty tomb, the two security guards, - who were left to watch an empty room - their worries were just beginning as well.

It was cold, the type of bitingly bitter cold only the desert gets at night. They stood alone at the entrance, nervously looking back every now and then. What can only be called a shiver of unease crawling up their spines as the night wore on.

Something wasn't right, the silence surrounding them was oppressing. Even for the dead.

"A strange wind tonight," One of them murmured. They were the only two left in the valley, and their replacement team wasn't scheduled to be coming for another hour. They had already extended their shift, the importance of the find leading to longer hours, and with news of the robbery, the museum officials wanted every possibility accounted for. Even if that meant standing in front of an empty tomb _just_ _in case_ anyone showed up trying to put 'stolen' goods back where they belonged. Fatigue weighed on both their shoulders. Shadows seemed to stretch into gruesome figures in the fading light, and they huddled closer together unconsciously.

"We've been out here for hours," The other responded, voice wavering in fear. Their breath condensed midair and hung about their heads in a thick mist before following the air current behind them. "my wife will be getting worried."

A breeze pushed past them, ruffling their clothes and making them shiver. An almost unnatural wind, one that seemed to push them further towards the tomb.

They both noticed and shared a nervous look, but were willing to let it slide, reclining back against rough stone to wait out the rest of their measured time. They let the silence settle, the tension in the air enough to keep them awake, or at least, they hoped so.

The sky continued to darken, indigo shifting to a dark midnight blue and then to black. The stars were dim, and the moon – only half full – was hidden behind wispy clouds that slowly lowered until they were hovering over the sand in a dense unnatural fog. The guards rubbed their eyes, blinking against the mist that hung over the sand. It seemed to be twisting, ghostly figures rising up before settling again. The road was no longer visible, and the rough stone that stood as a wall behind the two men was the only proof that anything around them was still solid and real.

"I don't like this." One of them whispered, and even their voices were swallowed and distorted in the air around them. It gave the sense of something waiting to happen, a knife hanging by a thread and ready to fall.

 _Scritch._ A sound like nails on a chalkboard. It was quiet, almost indistinguishable. But even that vague noise was enough to rattle their bones and make the hairs on the back of their necks stand up.

"What was that?" A loud swallow could be heard, as well as the shifting of nervous feet through sand. A shaking hand clutched at the cragged stone as they both moved closer to the entrance of the tomb.

"We should investigate. It could be tomb robbers."

"But how could anyone get past us, we've been here all day and no one has gone in since they removed the mummy."

 _Scritch. Scritch._

They hesitated for just a small moment, and the cold suddenly felt twice as chilling, striking down to burrow beneath the skin and settle in bone.

"You first."

The steps were just as narrow as they had been earlier that morning. The tomb just as empty.

But something was off. Dust floated disturbed in the beams of their flashlights, and they followed the path to a dark open space in the wall. A space that had definitely not been there hours before. They moved closer, the weak light eventually revealing the outline of a small unadorned sarcophagus.

Cold painted eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. Carved black hair stretched over the wooden shoulders of the lid to rest over crossed arms. The wood was chipped, and the features of the woman it was supposed to represent were warped and almost deformed by time. The sarcophagus was covered in charms, most of which the guards could not recognize.

And it was open.

The temperature around them felt like it had dropped several more degrees, if that was even possible, and any nervous sweat that had formed was slowly frozen, dropping to the ground in crystals, and both the guards shook as they continued to stare blankly at the empty box.

"Wait," One of them whispered, his voice catching slightly, "there's...there's something over there." Fear made his voice thin, and his next words were spoken so softly it almost went unheard by the man beside him. "There's something in the corner."

Two beams of light swiveled around simultaneously and stopped to rest on a small hunched figure. It was dirty, wrapped in frayed and discolored linens that looked like they had been clawed at and torn, and as the recently disturbed air drifted around the room it brought with it the smell of decay.

 _"Where is he?"_

Petrified and unable to move, the guards merely stood there as they watched with growing terror as the figure rose from the ground, it's nails scratching at the stone wall around it. Both flashlights thudded to the ground uselessly and rolled to stop at the creatures' feet. A nightmare, a monster. It couldn't be real.

 _"What have you done with Memphis?"_ It crooned. As it turned, they saw the briefest flash of sunken yellow eyes, wide and unblinking in a desecrated face. They unfroze and stumbled backward, reaching blindly for the ladder that would take them back above ground. To safety. The scrambled, tripping and fighting each other as they both tore up the stairs.

"Oh god."

The dark was absolute, there was no light of day to guide them, nor was it waiting for them at the top of the steps. There was only the dim glow of muted stars and a nonexistent moon. Their hearts beat so loudly in their ears they could hear nothing else, not even the sound of their own labored breathing.

 _"You cannot leave yet, there is still something I need from you."_ The screech followed them, and as one tripped; falling backward and down towards the tomb, linen wrapping tangled around his legs, the other let out a sob, too afraid to turn back, too afraid to turn back even when he heard the screaming.

"Please." He whispered. "Please. I don't want to die like this."


	4. Chapter 2

"I can't believe this." I groaned, knocking my head against the edge of my desk. I had been up for hours and the cracked, broken, _shattered_ 3000-year-old clay tablet wasn't any more unbroken than it had been when I had first started. While I had never been overly clumsy, I did tend to rush about, which often resulted in rather unfortunate accidents. Like the one I was experiencing now.

The pieces I had put together only formed the vague outline of a winged figure. The same figure that had been carved at the base of the young pharaoh's sarcophagus. I gently placed the edges of two promising stone bits together, sighing when they didn't fit either.

I'd been at this all night. And it still wasn't enough.

"Evie! It's time to get up." Rodney yelled, and I could hear him running up the hallway towards my door. "It's already seven 'o clock." He burst unceremoniously into the room, his coat slung over one arm. "Don't you have school?" He skidded around me to open the curtains covering my windows, and I whimpered as the sun burned at my tired eyes.

"Oh, leave me be!" I groaned, throwing my arms over my head in an attempt to shut out the light. "I'm mourning." I continued, my voice muffled. But never one to dwell, and far too used to my so-called dramatics, Rodney just ruffled my hair, his fingers actually improving the mess I had made of it in my frustration.

"Did you get any sleep?" He asked, leaning over me to see what I had been working on. He moved my arms to get a better look, knocking me out of my rather comfortable anguish filled position. He hummed at the mess, eyes wide, "Well, aren't you just fantastic at puzzles. How did this happen?"

"I broke it… by accident." I added when his eyebrows twitched, "I have been trying to fix it all night." I pushed my chair away from my desk, stretching. If I had pushed just a bit more roughly than usual, enough to knock into my brother, ...well I was exhausted. I motioned for Rodney to turn around as I meandered into my closet, ignoring the glare he sent my way as he rubbed a hand against his ribcage.

"Today was the day we were supposed to unwrap the mummy." He called out to me, and I peered around the edge of my closet door, frowning as I watched him poke through my things. "Find out what killed him. Can't do that now," he sighed forlornly, "the researchers say the body could fall apart. We have to take the proper _precautions_."

He turned as I finally came out, smiling as I struggled to adjust my collar. "Now I have to tell father and Ryan that bad news, along with the fact that practically the entire exhibit has been stolen." His smile stretched, this time his features coming across a bit strained as he handed me my school books, ushering me out the door with his other arm.

"But that's my problem. You should get to school." He pushed me out the door, motioning towards the kitchen where I could smell breakfast cooking. "Get Carol on your way, we both know she's not up yet." _Too true._ She would sleep all day if we let her.

Her door was down the hall from mine, and open. I pushed in, setting my books down on the edge of her desk before walking into her closet. "Carol," I called, digging through her clothes absently as I tried to find something suitable and easy to put on. "we're going to be late if you don't get up."

I heard her mumble a reply, her voice rising into a groan as I walked back out to pull at her blankets and toss her clothes to her as she sat up. None of us had gotten much sleep the night before, and I had to suppress a sigh at the bags under her eyes. "Get dressed, breakfast in five. If you're not down, I'll leave without you." I warned her, only half serious. She threw a pen at me, grumbling from inside her top, and I ducked out the door before she could throw anything else.

Walking down the hallway slowly, I smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles in my dress, knowing Trine would fuss if I looked frumpy. Especially after last night.

The bright airy atmosphere of the kitchen I walked into was a complete contrast to what it had been the night before and I momentarily paused at the difference, uneasy, as Trine turned around, holding my breakfast on a platter. Her smile was strained and her shoulders tense, and it seemed as though the tension from last night, while it was harder to detect, was still there. Not even sunshine and brightly painted walls could make that disappear.

Trine often said our problems were her problems, because we were family, which often led to her pushing herself beyond what she should in order to make the rest of us feel better. I couldn't help but feel a bit sad as I saw her hands shake as she set the tray down on the table, pulling a chair out for me. "There you are. Come on now, I made blueberry pancakes. Your favorite."

I gave a feeble smile, my stomach growling. But one glance at the clock hanging above the oven dispelled any notion of eating I might have had. It was well past half seven, and school started at eight o'clock sharp. I had a huge presentation to complete and tennis practice after school. None of which was really the best thing to have planned after a rather restless night. I gave Trine a quick hug, bypassing the dining table as I ran towards the door and began shoving my feet into my shoes. "I don't have time to eat, I'm late!" I yelled regretfully, not noticing she had followed me into the hallway, still carrying the breakfast tray. "I'll get something from the school cafeteria, I promise."

"Carol!" I screeched once I was ready, my foot tapping impatiently as I waited. We did the same thing every morning, and as I checked my watch one more time I was seriously considering going to get her, only to nearly have a heart attack as she came barreling through the kitchen clutching her books, and mine.

"You forgot...," she gasped, "your books."

"Oh Carol," Trine sighed, "not you too. You can't possibly leave without eating."

I was out the door before she could stop me, nearly snagging my skirt on the frame and silently thanking my sister for her timely distraction. Carol gaped at my retreating back for a moment, feeling betrayed, but was quick enough to follow. Skipping over our cobbled driveway, we made for the gate, ignoring Trine's voice behind us as she chased us out the door.

"Carol, at least drink some milk." While she sounded exasperated, I prayed that it was said with equal amounts of fondness and good humor. It wouldn't do to make Trine angry. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

"No time Trine. You drink it, don't want it to go to waste right?" Carol said, and I could almost hear our matron grumble from halfway down the drive.

"At least be home early, your father and Ryan are getting in today!"

I grinned at the thought of seeing them after such a long time – it had been almost six months since they'd gone away on business after all – although my smile dimmed slightly at the rather grave news they would be facing when they arrived. I did not envy Rodney that experience. But I supposed we – meaning them really – would just jump over that hurdle as it appeared.

 **xXx**

The day was hot, the sun already blinding in its intensity, the streets bustling and full of life. It was overwhelming, the air humid and almost suffocating in its intensity. I had pushed and shoved my way through the crowds for a good fifteen minutes, careful not to tread on toes with Carol right behind me. _Ah, the everyday life of Cairo._

I was halfway down the street before I had noticed Carol was no longer following me. Her eyes trained instead on a small figure huddled in one of the shallow alleys that lined the street, a dog standing guard by her side. The dogs' head had moved, it's eyes following us as we passed through the crowded courtyard and ultimately catching her attention. I edged closer, unwilling to get any nearer than I was but also not wanting to leave Carol on her own. A glance at the stranger however, dispelled any notion of wariness I'd previously held.

 _A flash of red._ They seemed so small. Assuming it was a child, I closed in quickly, stopping only when the dog bared its teeth in my direction. My eyes nervously flickered to whoever was crouched by its' side, and steadily grew more and more unnerved by the lack of response I kept my distance, an arm held out to stop Carol from doing anything foolish. My initial concern fading, I took the time to really look at person before us. The shawl the figure was draped in was almost unnaturally clean. A transparent white the glowed in the shadowed alcove in a way that set my teeth on edge and filled me with an unwarranted sense of foreboding. The ally the child was crouched in was far too dirty for anything to be that clean, particularly when they looked to have been there a while. But the feeling was fleeting and disappeared completely as the shawl finally shifted to reveal a face.

To reveal a girl, and she was no child. She was my age at least, if not a bit older.

"Oh my god!" Carol gasped, rushing over, completely forgetting the dog in her shock. I hovered anxiously over her shoulder, uncertain of whether or not to offer my assistance. I eventually slipped a hand under the girl's elbow as Carol helped her up, supporting her as she stood. She smiled at us as she rose to her full height, her eyes shimmering a dark black in the shadowed lighting. My own smile slipped for a moment, my grip on her elbow tightening as she stepped out into the busy street to stand beside me. She stood still for a moment, seeming to regain her balance, eyes shifting between Carol and I in a way that was decidedly uncomfortable.

I shivered.

"Please," She whispered in Arabic "he is gone."

My throat felt dry, and I had to all but force the words as I asked her what she was talking about.

"My brother, my dear Memphis."

What should have sounded mournful was instead angry and fierce, and I was struck with the thought that some of the smallest most innocent looking things could be deadly. In that moment I heard her fury and saw poison in her gaze. But the moment soon passed, like a cloud passing over the sun.

I felt silly for even entertaining the idea. A girl stood before us again. Black shifted to brown, there was a streak of dirt across her cheek and she was small and normal, and she needed our help. I blinked as my eyes watered and my throat constricted.

It felt like I was waking up from a nightmare.

I let out an unsteady breath, edging around the dog and blocking most of the crowd as Carol hurried her back towards the way we'd come. I slipped almost mindlessly into Arabic after hearing her speak, too concerned with what had just happened to wonder if my general assumption that she did not speak English was offensive.

My mother would have a heart attack if she knew we'd been so tactless, or so tardy since we were definitely late to school. But I could hardly find it in myself to care, there were more important things to worry about than education at the moment. Besides, when faced with such obvious need, school seemed like a secondary priority, easily brushed aside to the back seat. I made the walk back to my home more like a slow jog, ducking and meandering through side alleys and treading on paths less traveled to shorten the distance.

The girl said nothing, her grip on Carols' arm tightening the faster I made us move. I shuddered at the cold clammy look of her skin and shot a look at Carol, worried over the girls' health. How long had she been sitting out there? Eventually, I noticed her feet were dragging against the cobblestones, and I slowed, stopping completely as we crossed into our family's property, the gate a solid presence of safety above us.

"Wait here," I murmured to Carol, stepping around her and heading towards the front door. "I won't be but a moment." I turned to look over my shoulder as I passed through the walkway and as the strangers' eyes met mine, she seemed to straighten her shoulders suddenly, her arms still around my sisters'. Light covered her in tones of gold. I was struck very suddenly by a cold wave of envy. _She was beautiful._

"Trine," I called, walking into the now empty kitchen. "Mom, Rodney are you here?" My voice echoed faintly, bouncing off walls and reverberating in empty rooms. Hearing no one after a few minutes of silence, I went back, motioning for both of them to come inside. She clung to Carol as I led them through the entrance, gazing around as if she'd never seen the inside of a house before. Or perhaps just not one like ours.

I would never admit it, but we all jumped, startled, when the tv turned on suddenly in the next room. My hand flew to rest against my fluttering pulse, my breath leaving me in a rush. The girls' shawl had fallen at the movement, revealing an ornate gold headdress pinned to her head, the metal a stark contrast to her dark hair. I eyed it for a moment, confused by the archaic design. It looked like some of the jewelry that had been pulled from the tomb but was obviously new and very well kept. I swept my eyes over the rest of her, catching another flash of gold at her wrists and finally noticing the dress she was wearing. Even Carol stared.

I blanched, my cheeks heating up just a bit. She was obviously very... traditional. She wore sheer linen. What appeared to be a long bolt of fabric wrapping around her body and cinched at her waist. That in itself was not surprising. It looked like what I had always thought ancient Egyptian clothing would look like; built for the heat. No, what had me blushing ten different shades of scarlet was the fact she was wearing nothing underneath. Carol met my gaze over the girls' shoulder, her cheeks just as red as mine and I shrugged helplessly.

I looked away, my head turning to the side and staying there as the heat faded from my face. Any further embarrassment on my part was alleviated when Trine strayed into my view, arms loaded with another tray that she was carrying out of the veranda. She stopped in surprise as her eyes met mine, gaze hesitantly lighting on the others beside me.

"Evelyn, Carol, what are you two doing back?" She asked. I didn't answer and instead motioned her forward, gently pushing the girl to the couch, where I pulled her shawl more tightly around her as Carol took a seat beside her, still holding her hand.

I could hear Trine call for Rodney behind me, her voice faint and a bit shrill, so I moved to stand in front of them as he came through the door.

"She was in the street," Carol immediately told them. "I think she had been there all night. I wasn't thinking clearly and just brought her here, I'm sorry." She rushed to get it all out, made nervous by the rather blank expression on our brothers face. He stood still, eyes locked on our guest for a long moment. He started to laugh, a dry sort of laugh, but a laugh none the less.

"This isn't like the time you brought home that stray cat, you understand that right?" He didn't sound angry, just resigned, and maybe a bit exasperated.

"Yes," she whispered, looking at me for help. "I understand, I just didn't know what else to do."

"We weren't going to just leave her there," I said, chagrined at the very idea.

Sighing, Rodney ran a hand through my hair, pushing it into my eyes. "Then I expected nothing less from you both."

"Besides," he chuckled. "What kind of people would we be if we didn't help those in need."

 **xXx**

The next few hours passed in a hazy blur, full of awkward silences and lingering glances. I sat next to Carol on the sofa, who was holding out a mug of hot chocolate and looking between our guest and my brother with curious eyes.

"My name," she said, seeming a bit humbled under the weight of our collective gaze, "is Isis. I am here looking for my younger brother. He is lost somewhere in the city. I have been here before, but I am afraid things have become much changed since that time and I became a bit turned around." She turned to face Carol and I, a small smile lighting up her face. "That is, until you two found me."

Isis had switched to English during the family introductions – much to my surprise and slight embarrassment. Her voice was mesmerizing, deep and with a lilting accent that made my head swim if I listened for too long. She had enchanted Trine, who fawned over her now, remarking over her refined manners and beauty. Rodney sat beside me, an arm slung around my shoulders and stopping to rest against Carols' as he reclined against the back of couch. His own shoulders were tense, and his smile became more and more strained as time passed.

"Oh, come now," I whispered, elbowing him in the side, "it's not that bad." Trine had been making some not so subtle hints for the past half hour, hearts in her eyes. She was sending very strong signals, her gaze flicking in between Isis and my brother at regular intervals.

I found his discomfort amusing.

"She is almost as bad as mother," he muttered. "both speaking as if I would drop everything and marry the first pretty girl they both approve of. I don't want to get married."

I scoffed at his petulant expression. "Oh please, you know they only jest." He settled further back, almost disappearing behind me. I could feel his laughter.

"Perhaps Evie, but I still hold firm to the belief that Isis, and women like her, are much more suited to our brother."

I couldn't help but agree as I looked her over. I could hear Rodney sigh behind me.

"Her smile," he murmured absently against my back, "it's not real."

I had wanted to ask Rodney what he had meant, but before I had even turned to look at him the door opened. It slammed into the opposite wall, shattering the tentative quiet we had all settled into as well as my conversation.

Carols' and my skipping school had not gone unnoticed apparently, and as Jimmy ran rudely through our front door asking why she hadn't shown up, I could see in my mother's eyes that it would not go unpunished. And while I admired her fierce determination that we become intelligent and successful ladies of society, I believe we both had felt at the time as though there were bigger problems knocking at our front door. A few of them had followed Jimmy inside like unwanted guests. It took him less than two minutes to ruin everything.

I hated him then.

"Robbers managed to take the mummy from your father's exhibit. We think it's the same thieves as before. They came sometime in the night." Jimmy's voice trembled, flowing out of him in a rush as he refused to meet our eyes. "They left the sarcophagus behind, closed the lid. We didn't even know the body was gone until we had it opened earlier today."

I could hear my brother curse behind me, Carols' despondent wail and my mother's small exhale of breath, like all the breath had been knocked out of her. The dull thud of her falling heavily into a seat made me flinch, and I saw from the corner of my eye the way her head came to rest in her hands. If it hadn't been for Rodney's hold on my arm, I would have already fled from the room. I could already feel tears building. A burning ache.

It was hard to describe, this feeling, that helplessness and anger. It just wasn't fair, all our hopes, the hard work the entire excavation team had put into this great discovery, this monumental piece of history – gone. Because people were greedy or political or envious. I had turned away in my frustration, unwilling to listen as Jimmy went on about the research team and the police envoy that was currently out searching the city. My eyes had connected – just briefly – with Isis's own as I had turned to face her, and the cold hatred I saw in her eyes was enough to freeze my blood in my veins and leave me shaking.

It was only for a second, a short minuscule second that passed like it had never been there, a mask of sincere concern slipping over her face as she moved towards me. So slight it was, that I had half convinced myself it hadn't been real, that I was just reflecting my turbulent emotions outwards onto others. _I was overemotional and uncertain. I was seeing things._ Her hand soon closed over my shoulder, and her fingers felt cool and skeletal against my skin.

"They beg you return to the tomb," Jimmy said to my brother. "They've blocked off the valley, and no civilians will be allowed inside without your express permission. We would be the first ones there, everyone else is busy with public relations and cleaning up the mess the thieves made at the museum."

I watched him reach out to Carol, saw the soft way he held her hand and stroked his thumb across her wrist. She blushed bright red, but she didn't pull away. Even Rodney couldn't muster up enough indignation to react in his usual protective big brother way at the sweet display. "It was specifically asked that you stand in lieu of your father until he gets here."

My brother gave a dry humorless laugh. "Yes, someone has to take responsibility," he said, running a hand through his hair, pulling at it in his frustration, "of course I'll go." His smile was self-deprecating and sharp. "We shall go to the tomb, we'll all go together." He passed my mother, who looked sad and tired and suddenly, she seemed so much older than she had before. I stared, but she didn't meet my gaze.

I knew that I was young, that there were things I didn't understand, didn't care to understand really. After the Lidos had adopted me I had grown up privileged, wanted for nothing, and I thought back to the night before, when she had been speaking with father over the phone and she had murmured something about _money_ into the receiver. I remembered how cold I had felt, at the look on her face.

The same look she had now.

Just because I didn't think about it didn't mean that I couldn't remember what that same expression had looked like on someone else. I felt sick at the thought, physically rebelling against the memory of something I thought was long behind me.

I left, practically running out the door, leaving her behind. An empty tomb was better than this. Anything was better than this.


	5. Chapter 3

My second trip to the Valley of the Kings was the complete opposite to the first. Quiet. Abandoned. It felt, for the first time, like I was truly walking through a graveyard. A group of Carol's friends had followed Jimmy to our house and had continued to follow us as we went to revisit the tomb. I could hear them behind me, chattering and laughing, daring each other to go first. My skin crawled at the uncaring attitude they presented, the seriousness of the situation clearly lost on them. _Like the fact our family's livelihood was falling apart._ The entrance to the tomb had been roped off by the police, and there was a small group of people standing close together nearby, shooting dark glances our way as we approached.

Rodney had been pulled away by the police the moment we arrived. I'd stuck with him, my mood sour. I had no patience for my underclassmen. But he had waved me away, telling me to go with the others as they entered the empty excavation sight. I'd rolled my eyes but relented, moving to stand behind Carol, who was the first to go down. She seemed nervous. I could see her tremble as she took a step forward, urged on by the press of her classmates and my fingers curling around her arm. She reached for my hand as we descended, and I gripped back tightly, more for my own sake than hers. _It was unnaturally cold._ I could see my own breath. Misty, it hung in the air for a moment before dispersing. My brow furrowed in confusion; it hadn't been this cold the last time we'd been here.

"Ugh," someone muttered from behind me. "It reeks in here."

I couldn't help but agree. The air was heavy enough to choke on, and the stench only got worse the deeper we went. Cursing, I stumbled down a few steps, someone bumping into me from behind. "Jimmy stop pushing," I snapped, irritated.

"Oh please," he snapped back. "the floor is slippery, give me a break."

"Yeah, whatever." I had knocked into Carol as well, and she had come to a sudden stop in front of me and was trying to back up the stairs, her gaze focused on the ground. "Carol, you alright?"

"I'm fine," she told me absently, "there's just something under my foot." Her friends crowded in close behind us at her words, trying to get a closer look. I felt them pressing in against my back and my balance wavered.

"No, no wait!" I yelped, but it was too late. Gravity took hold and I toppled forward, the rest following as I gave way.

We landed in a heap, and I reared back in shock as something wet began to seep through my skirt from where I'd fallen, kneeling on the ground. The others had found themselves in very similar situations, and gasps and squeals of disgust were coming from every direction. "Evie," Carol whispered, her voice shaky, "there's something under my legs."

"What? Hang on Carol," I shoved Jimmy to the side as he tried to climb over me to get to her, groaning as he hit my ribs with his elbow. "Somebody get a light."

I moved forward, and finding Carols legs and reaching beyond, came in contact with what we had all tripped over. It was stiff and unyielding, and covered in coarse cloth. _Is this an arm?_ I thought with a detached sort of horror. I trailed my hand upwards, eyes straining in the dark. I had just brushed against what felt cold skin when there was a murmured whisper behind me and the sound of a match being struck.

Dark turned to light and I found myself staring into the unseeing eyes of a dead man.

"Oh my god!"

Screams shattered the still air around us and I lost sight of my bearings for a moment as everyone lunged to their feet, sprinting as fast as possible back to the sliver of light that marked the entrance. I was quickly left behind, my legs tangled within my skirts as I fought to stand and follow. I heard Carol yell out behind me, her breathless cry close to my ear as she locked her hands around my arm in fear. A careless shove from one of the others, combined with what I had then realized to be blood covering the ground, was enough to send us both tumbling down the steps and dropping several feet into the tomb. Alone.

The fall, while short, was quite painful and I gasped in both shock and surprise as I hit the ground. Carol landed on top of me, flailing in her panic and the force of it rattled my bones. All the air in my lungs rushed out, and I curled onto my side, clutching my ribs as I struggled to breathe. I gasped silently for a few moments, flinching as Carol herded closer and clung to me.

 _"Evie."_ She sounded afraid, and the grip she maintained on my upper arm was bruising. "Evie, we're alone in the tomb, oh god. It's so dark. We have to get out of here. Did you see what just happened?" She pulled me up easily, and in her fear-addled state managed to push us into a corner, our backs to the wall.

" _Yes_ Carol," I hissed, "we've tripped over dead men, and landed oh so gracefully down here, in the dark. I know." She started to sniffle, and I immediately regretted my harsh tone. I reached out blindly, hand patting her hair in an attempt to apologize. "Don't cry, Carol. Nothing is broken, right?"

She continued to cry. "I'm just scared. Where's Jimmy and the others? Why didn't they stop?"

 _They were all too scared to care._ I thought viciously. I rubbed her arm comfortingly, noticing her shivering. "We'll just head back up, surely the others have notified the police, which are right outside, and they'll clean this whole mess up. Now come on, I think we knocked the ladder over when we fell in here." I tried to tug her along to where I thought the ladder might be, only to have her stop abruptly once again, shrinking back into my side.

"What was that?" She whispered, sounding terrified. "That sound." Her voice got even quieter, if such a thing was possible. "There's someone in here with us." I wanted to brush away her concerns, to be completely confident that there was nothing else in the empty tomb with us. But I couldn't. Even so, I tried to ignore the way the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, wanting to be brave for Carol because I knew I couldn't be brave for myself.

"No one is in here with us Carol. You're being ridiculous." But I wasn't so sure she was. There _had_ been a sound; a footstep as we both stood still. Our eyes had adjusted enough to the darkened surroundings by this point, and I had searched the chamber in vain, my slightly panicked mindset not as thorough as I may have liked.

We were the only things there.

The only living things.

 _Keep a calm head._ My placations were false, my tone unsteady, and Carol could tell. "The eyes," she whimpered a minute later, seeing something I wasn't. I felt a chill run down my spine at her words.

"What?"

"The paintings Evie. _Their eyes are moving._ "

Glowing and beady and ghostly. Too many to count. We watched the figures pull themselves away from the stone walls to surround us, painted lips stretching into eerie sharp-toothed grins. I pressed Carol behind me, farther into the corner.

"This can't be happening. This can't be real." I repeated the words like a mantra. But the cold and completely solid hands that closed around our wrists and tore at our clothes and hair a moment later proved that this was all too real. They pulled us apart, dragging us – and in Carol's case kicking and screaming – towards the adjacent wall, where there was nothing but smooth stone seeing as they'd just vacated it. I could do nothing but stare in silent horror at the nightmares clinging to me.

"No! Let go!" Carol cried.

 _What were they going to do?_

"Evie! Evelyn! Oh, let us go!"

 _Smash us into the wall._

"Let go, please!"

 _Or through it._

 **xXx**

Sprawled in the dirt. Again.

Instead of the cold, dank and rather dark chamber I had been expecting, I was met with clear open air, and the suns' light burned so brightly I had to close my eyes against the sting after being in the dark for so long. From beside me came Carols soft gasp, and when I finally did crack my eyes open it was to golden sand and a scene that had me thinking I was either dreaming or dead.

We lay at the edge of polished stone steps, the likes of which led up to a building I had only dreamed of ever seeing. Not the ruins that I was used to, or even expecting. This was an Egyptian temple at its' prime, painted and proud in the golden age of Egypt. _Perfectly carved pillars and walls untouched by time._ I was spellbound; and reaching out a hesitant hand to brush the step closest to me it took all my willpower not to sigh in reverence.

"If this is a dream I don't want to wake up." I could have stayed there forever. As my head cleared however, and the sparkle of perfectly preserved buildings began to fade, Carols panicked whispering of my name pushed away the dull ringing in my ears. She was sitting up and facing the temples inner courtyard, her blue eyes wide. A sudden commotion had sparked up and was drawing closer. The group of scantily clothed men heading our way had my jaw dropping, and not for the reason you might think. Oh no. We'd been surrounded, and the way their weapons pointed towards us left little to no doubt that we were in hostile territory.

 _I'm dreaming._

They shouted something I didn't understand; but my head was swimming almost too much to recognize they had even spoken. They paced around us, eventually becoming frustrated as neither of us answered. Two stepped forward to roughly haul us to our feet. The one holding me repeated what they had said before, shaking me roughly, but I could only groan.

Another sighed, motioning to the others before taking us deeper into the temple. I didn't fight them, despite their rather rude treatment of us. The focus of my attention had been completely preoccupied with the all too real looking, all too sharp swords they each carried unsheathed in their hands. A few of which were trained our way. I felt one such particular point rest against my back, the sharp metal tip piercing through my clothes and pricking my skin every time my feet slid over the stone floors' smooth surface.

Minutes passed this way, and I hardly had time to enjoy the magnificent architecture before we were thrown down again. This time in front of an even bigger group of armed men, who all quickly moved aside to reveal a young man in their midst. He stepped forward, the authority in his stride unmistakable. I was almost afraid to look at him, but when I did, I found with varying levels of resentment that I couldn't look away.

The first thing I noticed about him was his clothes. Bright vibrant colors, various textures and _dear god was that silk._ The designs were archaic, although extremely lavish, and he had on more jewelry than I had ever seen a man wear in my entire life. Not to mention the full Egyptian headdress he had on, looking for all the world like the cloth had been spun out of gold. When I had finally moved past all the glamour and shine, I was surprised to see that not only was he young, but he was handsome. The kind of attractive that if we had been in any other situation would have had my knees going weak while words failed me. Putting the whole image together… the result left me embarrassingly speechless.

He looked like a Pharaoh. Like a king. Or what I had always imagined one to look like.

That more than anything cemented the idea in my mind that I was dreaming, and that my imagination was running absolutely wild. _I was not in a good place with all this mummy business._

It was then I noticed that said beautiful man was looking in our direction, a most unpleasant scowl twisting his pretty features, and that he too had a sword. One that was currently pointed at the neck of a very scared individual lying prone beneath his feet. He pulled away, and with a wave of his hand, two others moved to subdue the man in his place.

 _His face. It's so familiar._

"What's this? More assassins." Before I could blink, he was right in front of us, and I had to tilt my head back to even be able to meet his eyes. He reached down towards me, and for a moment I thought he was going to brush his hand against the side of my face. Instead, he tangled his fingers in my hair, pulling harshly enough to lift me off my knees and awkwardly into the air.

I hissed in pain and surprise, my own hands latching onto his wrist to try and lighten the burning pressure now being applied to my scalp. "What an interesting color," he commented casually, eyes straying to Carols' matching blond head. "So, neither of you are Egyptian." It wasn't a question.

I panicked, nails digging into his skin _because dreams weren't supposed to hurt, not really._

 _And this did hurt._

He leaned over me, a poor attempt at intimidation – or so I told myself – and his lips curled into a cruel smirk. I shuddered, and it was most defiantly with revulsion, as his breath brushed my cheek.

"Are you here to try and kill me too?" He questioned me softly, a shocking amount of malice in his tone. I could only stare transfixed at his dark eyes, a vague sense of deja vu making my mind hazy.

 _Where have I seen you before?_

"Memphis!"

The feminine call broke his concentration, and I had to fight back tears of relief as he dropped me to face the newest arrival to our motley group of armed men and defenseless victims. Carol grabbed ahold of me as he moved away, her whispered questions falling on deaf ears.

"Is that Isis?" I whispered interrupting her, careful to keep my voice low. Carol stilled at my words, her line of sight following my own as the beautiful man - Memphis - ran up to meet the last person we had expected to be here, sweeping her into his arms.

"Didn't Isis say her missing brother was named Memphis?" She asked confused, not answering my previous inquiry.

"Well, he is definitely not missing anymore." I pointed out blankly, watching as the two conversed from my seat on hard stone. The man from before was shoved forward, and Isis's infuriated words carried over to where we were sitting and even with the suns heat, what she said chilled me to the bone.

"You would dare attack Memphis! Pharaoh, ruler of all Egypt, your king. You would try to take his life," she said softly, her tone dark and slow. Motioning to the guards holding him, she walked to a large raised table I had failed to notice before and pulled an ornate silver dagger from within her robes as the now struggling man was bound upon the altar, his cries for release and mercy ignored. "The punishment for such an offense is death." She continued, raising her knife into the air. "The gods will decide your fate."

Carol screamed.

In a flash, it was over, and I watched eyes wide with terror as she drove her hand into the man's still moving chest and pulled out his heart. Bile rose in my throat, and I turned away, tears forming as I tried not to spill my lunch all over the gleaming stone tiles beneath our feet. Distantly, I observed that Isis had stopped to place her gruesome offering at the feet of one of the many effigies stationed around the room, her prayers, all for her brother, sounding sinister and warped to my ears.

"Bring the other two forward," Isis called from her perch a moment later, "the younger one first." We were driven towards her, our feet dragging in heavy despair. My heart dropped at her proclamation, a small wail leaving my lips as I lunged forward on instinct to grab for the bloody knife still laying on the sacrificial table.

"Please." I moaned as strong arms pulled me back almost immediately. Steel bands against my struggles. "Please don't do this." My head fell back, eyes threatening to close against what I knew was going to happen next.

Carol kicked and shrieked desperately as she was led forward, and I doubled my efforts as she called for my help. "Evie!" They pinned her down, and her cries were becoming harder to understand through her frantic tears. "You can't do this to me, I haven't done anything wrong! Evie! Rodney! Somebody help!" Her hand shot out, grabbing Isis robe as she drew near. "Isis" she pleaded. "Isis you know me, why are you doing this?" But Isis only laughed, and I watched helplessly as one of the men restraining her slapped Carol across the face, ripping her arm away from the girl about to kill her.

She met my grief-stricken stare then, Isis, and I saw in her eyes and her small smug smile that she knew who we were and that she was going to hurt us anyway.

"Stop fighting me," a voice implored me, right beside my ear, and I turned my head to see it had been the Pharaoh to cage me after my desperate feeble rescue attempt, his eyes distant and unfeeling as they looked into mine, "you'll follow soon after."

It was then that I realized exactly where it was I'd seen him before, and the impossibility of it would have caused my legs to give out from under me if he hadn't already been holding me up. I had stood and stared into this face, just a day before and _mourned_ him. The first time I had looked at him and thought him handsome had been when I had looked upon his likeness carved in gold. As the lid of his coffin.

Dimly, it registered that Carols screams had stopped, and if there hadn't of been so much black closing in around the edge of my vision it would have terrified me to think of exactly why that was. With consciousness fading, however, I barely had time to notice the surprise on the young kings' face as he looked at me, and the last thing I remember was the memory of how warm his arms had felt at that moment, as my eyes had closed, and I slipped away.

 **xXx**

 _"Found..."_

 _"...happened?"_

 _"Get..th..up."_

 _"...elp, outside."_

 _"Evelyn."_

The feeling of course sand underneath me as I woke up what seemed like minutes later terrified me. I surged upwards, lashing out hysterically as hands clamped around my forearms to hold me down. "Evie, stop!" Rodney sputtered as I flailed, hitting him a few times in my addled state. He hauled me up quickly, arms coming around me in a hug.

"Geez, are you alright?" He pulled away after a moment and his hand settled on my shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze as he leaned back to look into my eyes. "You were out like a light."

My head hurt, and as I raised my hand to rub at my temple the sensation of something dry and flaky made me pull my hand away, only to stare in morbid fascination at the dried blood caking my palm. "What happened?" I muttered, lifting my heavy head to look around.

We were back outside the tomb, but now there was yellow police crime scene tape blocking the entrance instead of rope, and two tarp-covered figures laying just feet away from where we were standing.

"Well," Rodney sighed. "after everyone ran out screaming, there was so much panic that we didn't realize neither you nor Carol had come up with them." He sent a disturbed glance to the 'murder scene', shuffling on his feet. "We had to clean up first, but when we finally entered the internal chamber we found you on the floor unconscious and Carol lying on a table crying hysterically."

Taking a step back, he narrowed his eyes. "I should be the one asking you what happened."

"Is Carol ok?" I asked worriedly. I scanned our barren surroundings, settling finally in the car we had used to get here, and seeing Carol's hair shine at me from the window. She turned her head, tear-streaked cheeks pale and covered in dust, her hand raising as she met my eyes. I felt my shoulders relax and my breath even out.

I'd been so scared, paralyzed with the idea of that flashing silver blade, and the hand that held it. But Carol was fine. I was fine.

"Evie," Rodney shuffled closer, and giving one last look behind us to where Carol was sitting murmured conspiratorially, "she's been saying strange things. Talking about the mummy we discovered being alive and that you two were stuck in ancient Egypt. She said that Isis tried to kill her."

He started to laugh, and as I stood among ruins, with my brother openly ridiculing the idea of what had happened to us, I felt absurd.

Carols' tears were real. The finger-shaped bruises on my arms were _real_.

"We were. She did! Rodney, Isis is crazy."

"Attempted murder is a pretty serious accusation Evie, you shouldn't be kidding around."

"I'm not kidding." I grabbed his arm, making him look at me, really look at me. "Rodney, Isis was there."

His laughter died at the look in my eyes. "That's enough Evelyn," he snapped, looking momentarily irritated that I was letting up. We stood in stony silence before he sighed. "Listen, I know you have always been prone to flights of fancy but clearly both of you were very scared, being in the dark like that. After the fright you've had, it's only natural that your overactive imagination played tricks on you. You fainted Evie." He gripped my elbow, determinedly steering me towards the car and shooing Carols classmates away. "I'm taking you both home now." Shutting the passenger door behind me, he made quick work of getting himself into the driver's side and starting the car. "Father and Ryan's flight will be in in half an hour."

 **xXx**

Carol disappeared the moment we got home, the door to her room slamming behind her. I trailed after her at a much more sedate pace, feeling tired and sore and stupid. I could hear Rodney in the living room, detailing our harrowing experience and mentioning how fragile our constitutions currently were. Telling Trine and our mother not to mention it, seeing as we were fine and most likely only needed a good night's rest. Both Trine and our mother agreed, saying it would be best if we cleaned up and went to bed early. We could see our father and Ryan tomorrow.

 _Please._ I wasn't in the mood to be ridiculed anymore.

"Oh, you're back." Isis had appeared out of nowhere; her cold hands a collar as she slid them over my collarbone from behind. "I heard what happened, are you alright?" The concern in her voice sounded false, and the sharp gleam in her eyes was identical to the way she – or who I thought was her – had looked standing in front of the alter 3000 years ago, smiling as Carol screamed.

"I'm fine," I told her faintly over the ringing in my ears, "absolutely fine."

"I'm glad." She whispered, her fingers tightening fractionally. "Who knows what could have happened."

But I did know. I knew exactly what would have happened to us.

The next morning was beautiful, the sky sunny and clear. And like any beautiful day, it wouldn't have been complete without Carol making a scene. Trine had screamed so loudly I heard her from all the way upstairs – something about bugs – and I could hear rapid footfalls, as though Carol was trying to make a break for it. _Wouldn't want to miss that._ I slipped a brush through my hair, sighing as it fell pin straight down my back. I couldn't help but envy Carol's curls. While our hair colors were similar shades of gold, hers waved and curled if she grew it out long enough, though she never did. Mine, well, there was nothing to be done.

Now there was a specific reason for my vanity this morning. After the rather embarrassing display my sister and I had put on the day before, the worried glances we had received from the rest of the household was enough to make my face burn. I knew the news had reached our father, and as a man who prided himself on his reputation for a clear head and that of his family's; I was nervous to see how he'd react.

He loved us, but he was a man of science, and stories of time travel and walking mummies were not ideas he generally entertained. So, smoothing away any stray wrinkles on the skirt of my dress, I did my best to put on the air of a well put together young lady who most defiantly had not fainted inside a tomb the day before or had any 'grand delusions'.

 _Prone to flights of fancy my ass._

Once I entered the living room however, all my worries proved to be unfounded. The bear hug I was immediately swept into doing wonders on my frayed nerves. I hugged my father back as he spun me around laughing. He patted my hair as he set me back down, the action a throwback to when I was younger, murmuring his greetings as he passed me to our eldest brother, who had previously been sitting next to a very sulky Carol on the sofa. Ryan's embrace was much softer, and I sighed in his collar, "I missed you."

And I really had. Ryan had always brought me a special sense of security, he'd been the one to find me after all, and he had been the first to truly treat me like family. I couldn't remember much of my early childhood, and what I did I tried hard not to think about. But I did remember the day the Lido family had found me hiding away at one of their dig sites, stealing food. I was six years old and alone and I had cried when he found me under a table, eventually taking me to his father as people stared.

A small skinny little girl covered in dirt with sunken eyes and ribs visible through my ratty too large t-shirt. And even though I was all those things he still held my hand. They'd taken me to the hospital where doctors took his parents to the side and told them the most likely situation to have led me to my decrepit state.

 _And the way they looked at me after that._

A nurse had shaved my head and filled my arm with needles, feeding me nothing but colorless broth until I stopped throwing up everything I ate and I was still there a month later. He visited me every day, sometimes alone, sometimes with his parents, and when I was finally placed into a foster home he had been the only person to care about the bruises.

I had asked him, right after my eighth birthday, holding the flowers he'd brought me even though he knew I wasn't allowed to keep them, why he had been so nice to me, had helped me and held my hand in that hospital room. _"I had never seen anyone so sad,"_ he told me. _"and you were so small and all you did was look at me. You fell asleep clutching my sleeve, and I guess I didn't want you to have to let go."_

He had been my friend, my confidant, my brother. I had told him that; that I wished he was, I mean, and though he would never admit it I was more than certain he had something to do with my adoption into the Lido family a year later.

He chuckled. "And I've missed you." He pulled me to the side, arm around my shoulder, setting us both a bit apart from the rest of the family. A lit cigarette dangled from his fingers near my elbow, and I wrinkled my nose until he rolled his eyes and put it out. Much more at ease, I leaned against his side. "Those things will kill you."

"My dear, if anything is going to be leading me to an early grave it'll be how much I worry about you, it seems I'm not the only one developing dangerous habits."

I scoffed. "I tripped over one dead body th-"

"And fell down a hole." He interrupted, but I continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"-at hardly counts as a habit. It's more of a terrible surprise."

Whatever he was about to say in response was cut off as Rodney entered the room. "Ah finally," Mr. Lido called out to his youngest son. "Tell me, any news of our stolen mummy?" The question set everyone on edge instantly, and I noticed that in that small moment of quiet that Isis had followed Rodney, stopping in the doorway, her dark eyes trained cold and unblinking on our father.

"No, there has been no trace." A hesitant reply, and a collective sigh of disappointment drifted around the room.

"Father," Carol piped up suddenly, and I flinched, her unusual silence leading me to almost forget she was there, silent as the grave next to our mother. "I don't want to go to the tomb anymore. We should...we should stop digging."

Ryan let out a short unbelieving laugh. "What? Giving up already. That's not like you." All eyes were blank with surprise but one, and the ones that weren't were slowly filling up with rage as the conversation continued. "This is our most publicized project, the sole purpose of it was to increase the awareness and subsequently the profit of our company." He continued, incensed. "The discovery, and the theft, has been top news worldwide for weeks."

"We won't stop, not so long as there is money to be made."

"But it's immoral!" She cried. "All the thought, and love that was put into that kings resting place, and we've destroyed it."

"Spoken like a true lady," Ryan said eventually, breaking the heavy atmosphere and standing to lead us all to the table where Trine had set up afternoon tea. "I'm pleased to see such compassion in you, little sister."

"Yes yes," Trine said hastily, sliding a platter of sandwiches in front of us, "she is a work in progress. "Now Carol, leave the business to the men of the family, where it belongs." The rest of the table laughed as she pouted.

"You support me Evelyn, right?" She asked me petulantly, her gaze hopeful.

"Always," I assured absently over my tea, attention wavering as a flash of black in the doorway caught my eye. Isis had finally stepped completely into the room, her expression wiped clean and a dead smile on her painted lips. All the men stood as she entered, my father pulling out the seat beside him. "Ah, and our beautiful guest arrives. Please have a seat, my dear."

"You...you've met?" I sputtered, and the surprise on mine and Carols face would have been comical if Isis wasn't a woman I was more than wary of at the moment.

"Yes," Ryan said, reaching over to close my jaw as he sat back down. He looked amused. "We met when we arrived last night, and I must say," he continued, turning to face the newest addition to our breakfast table, "it must be you that has brought out this more elegant side of our younger sister. Heaven knows she's hopeless on her own, and our dearest Evelyn is so fond of her that she'll let her get away with anything."

"Speaking of siblings," our father interrupted quickly, his lips quirking at the dark expression on my face, "you were telling us about yours were you not Isis? If you tell us his name, we can start searching for him as soon as possible."

"Of course," she agreed, "his name is Memphis."

Carol choked on her tea.


	6. Chapter 4

"You'll never guess who I ran into today!" The chair across from mine screeched harshly across the floor, Carols' loud tone catching not only the attention of the few other students in here with us, but the cantankerous librarians' as well. I shrank back under the older woman's glare and lifted my book in a poor attempt to hide my face until she looked away.

"Shhh!" I hissed.

"Sorry." Carol sat down, thoroughly chastened. But even a scolding wasn't enough to stop her from talking for long. "It was Isis." She whispered, sounding excited. "She's professor Browns new assistant. It was amazing to see Evie. She can read and write ancient Egyptian, and she knows everything there is to know about Egyptian history, not to mention she's totally gorgeous so everyone's fawning over her an-"

"Woah hold on." I stopped her, putting my book down. "When did this happen? I didn't know her fan club was accepting new members." I had only meant to be partially sarcastic, but I ended up sounding more waspish than anything else.

"You shouldn't be so cruel!" Carol scolded me after a moment, and I leaned back in surprise at the bite in her tone. I couldn't remember the last time she had snapped at me like that. "She has been nothing but kind to us, and...and her brother is missing." Stopping, she narrowed her eyes at me. "How would you feel if it were Ryan?"

I chose not to dignify that with an answer.

"What about what happened in the tomb?" I asked. "She was going to kill you, kill us, and now all of a sudden you've turned into her biggest fan? What the hell is wro- "

She interrupted me. "It wasn't real Evie! We were wrong, we were hallucinating, we were scared, and we saw things that weren't there. You need to let it go."

"Let it go?" I echoed in disbelief.

"Yes, let it go! Why are you so sure it was real? What do you have against Isis anyway, what has she really ever actually done to you? Or are you just jealous and acting out?" She glared at me, eyes hard, and waited for my answer. But I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything,

"Moving on," she continued after a moment of tense silence and I let her, happy for the change in subject. She lowered her voice as her cheeks dusted with pink, "Jimmy asked me to the school dance." Her lips had spread into a goofy grin, her eyes going starry. Even with my obvious irritation, I couldn't help but be happy for her. My oblivious little sister was finally catching on. Sensing her hesitance to continue, I moved closer, my own voice dropping conspiratorially.

"And did you say yes?" I asked, curious, and the last vestiges of my anger faded away. Carol never spoke to me about boys. There were days I thought she avoided them like the plague on purpose to spite our mother and her never-ending matchmaking schemes. The cherry color her entire faced turned was all the answer I needed. I mean, the poor boy had been after her for what felt like years. "It's about time." I cackled joyously. "Oh, you're finally growing up, I'm so proud."

I stopped and gasped delightedly, a sudden thought striking me, "Ryan and Rodney are going to have a heart attack when they find out. I can't wait." She laughed along with me, but I could detect the barest hint of nervousness at the thought of our extremely overprotective brothers grilling her date, all sharp eyes, and sharp judgments. She had been a witness to the first, and only time I had ever brought a boy home to 'meet the family' and had laughed at the time as it ended horribly.

He hadn't even made it through the front door, and I spent the rest of the evening receiving a lecture on the vileness of men, the 'they only want one thing' speech if you will. Having the _talk_ with my brothers had honestly been one of the most traumatic experiences I had ever had. I silently hoped Jimmy was made of stronger stuff, and Carol as well if things went south.

"You'll help me, won't you? With my dress and hair and things." She tugged at the ends of her short hair self-consciously, trying to straighten out her unruly curls. "And since you care about me, you'll _distract_ our loving brothers should the need arise." What should have been a question ended up sounding a lot more like a demand. Her voice dripped with false sweetness, enough to give me cavities, or make me sick, and it was moments like this that it became abundantly clear how good Carol really was with getting her own way when she wanted something. She had the men of the family wrapped around her little finger, and though I was loath to admit it, even I caved after a few moments under her large eyed stare.

"Fine," I conceded grudgingly, "but if you get caught don't come running to me."

She grinned, utterly pleased with herself. "Thank you!" She stood and grabbed her bag, rolling her eyes as the librarian shot her another glare for her unconcern over all the noise she was making. "Let's go now!" She begged. "You're done with all your classes, right?"

I simply looked at her, reluctant to leave. I had finally convinced myself to sit down and finish a paper I had been putting off for weeks, and the library's atmosphere did wonders for my concentration. "But the school dance isn't until tonight, we have _hours_." My protests said in vain, she had latched onto my sleeve before I could blink, and I stared despondently as we left my books open and abandoned on the table. _I was never going to finish._ Carol turned back to grin at me.

"I know, we're already behind schedule."

 **xXx**

"Carol!"

"Carol!" I hissed again, shutting the door to her room behind me as softly as I could manage in my excitement. "There's a policeman downstairs, talking to father." Apparently, there was news of our missing mummy, or at least clues pertaining to it. Several of the pawn shops around the city had reported that they had seen something similar to what we were looking for. The sense of hope in the house was overwhelming, and I hoped the information held water, the disappointment that would follow if this search came up empty would be crushing.

"Perfect!" Carol said, smoothing out the edge of her dress. "Maybe they'll be so busy that they won't notice me leaving." I snorted as I watched her brush her hair, trying in vain to get it so sit right atop her head.

"They'll notice. You brought home so many shopping bags I'm surprised your arms didn't fall off and fathers' wallet didn't catch on fire."

She did look lovely though. Insisting on buying a whole new outfit had seemed to me a bit excessive, but she had argued that nothing she had was nice enough, and even though she could fit into my clothes every option I had presented to her had apparently not been up to par. My sense of style did not suit her tastes. I had wrinkled my nose at her statement. Hers didn't suit mine either. Too many _colors_. While I enjoyed variety, anything other than pastels made me look sickly and overly pale. I didn't tan like she did, I burned, a constant irritant considering the climate.

Carol had turned to admire herself in the mirror, her sentiments following a similar line as mine had about her appearance. Her new dress had a blue floral pattern and a nice white overlay reaching all the way to the floor. It really brought out her eyes. She looked small and dainty, and I was sure she'd be the bell of the ball. Trine had finished Carol's makeup sometime before, and she was constantly rechecking it in her vanity mirror.

"Jimmy is picking you up, isn't he?" I asked from beside her window.

"Yes, why?"

"I'm pretty sure that's his car pulling into our driveway." I did a little jump, excited. "Do you think he'll come inside? That would be fantastic. I bet the glares he'll get from Rodney and Ryan would freeze hell." The thought filled me with a rather sadistic sense of glee. Carol was constantly hounding me about my lack of a boyfriend, the opportunity to get a rise out of her about this was just too good to pass up.

"You're not helping." Carol gripped, shoving Trine's hands to the side as she tried to help with her hair, rather rudely in my opinion. She glided out the door, and I prayed she didn't trip on her way down the stairs in the shoes she was wearing. I followed close on her heels and could hear her sigh of relief as we descended and found that our brothers were nowhere in sight. _Pity._

Jimmy was, however, and was already waiting by the door, a small bouquet in his hands. The look he was giving my little sister was so adorably awe infused it almost made me nauseous. She had stopped as their eyes met, a pretty blush on her face, and I actually had to give her a little push towards her date to get her moving.

"Be home early," Trine told her sternly, shooting Jimmy a rather impressive stare, "and at least _try_ to act like a lady." She tailed them all the way to the door, and I laughed at the annoyed look Carol gave me over her shoulder.

The door shut behind them with a surprising amount of finality.

"She's growing up so quickly," Trine sniffled after a minute, and I moved to place an arm around her shoulders. "All of you are. I feel like it was just yesterday you all were clinging to my skirt and begging to have cookies before dinner." I grinned at the memory, Ryan had always had quite the sweet tooth, and he'd always been able to convince the rest of us to tag along, knowing our dearest caretaker would cave if we all asked together.

 _She sounds so sad._ "Trine," I murmured softly as I leaned in to give her a hug. "Could I please have some cookies before dinner?"

She laughed, her mood lifting. "Of course dear, would you like some tea as well?" Linking our arms, she lead me towards the kitchen, promising me that I could lick the spoon if I helped make the batter. _I wasn't going to say no to that._

That was how Ryan found us an hour later, the now clean spoon clutched in my hand as I tried to grab one of the delicious treats cooling on a platter by the sink, only to have Trine slap my hand and warn me they were still too hot to eat.

"Here you are!" He exclaimed, looking only slightly amused at my pout. I stuck my tongue out at him once I was sure Trines' back was turned, uncaring of how immature it may have seemed. He came to lean on the counter beside me and I wrinkled my nose at the smell of smoke that clung to his jacket.

"Those things really are going to kill you someday." He chuckled, reaching over to ruffle my hair and pluck the spoon from my hands.

"How would you like to be my date to a dance." He asked, offering me a rose from the flower arrangement in the hallway. "I'll get down on one knee if that'll make you say yes." I took it, stroking one of the soft petals and rolled my eyes.

"The school dance? I didn't think that was your kind of scene, besides don't you have to be a student to get in?"

"Ah," he sighed, lips curling into a grin, "you caught me. I don't really want to go to the dance."

"Then why do you want to go?"

"Well," he coughed slightly, lowering his voice, "there's been a murder in one of the labs at the school, they just found the body," he explained. "I want to go get Carol and investigate in case anything else happens."

"Well when you put it like that," I told him after a pause, pushing him lightly to the side as I jumped down from my stool, "how could a girl say no." I handed my empty teacup to Trine, who had been watching us with serious eyes as soon as Ryan had entered the room, as if she'd already known what had happened. She simply nodded, squeezing my hand and offering me a shaky smile.

"I'll get your coat." He told me, and I nodded, leaving the kitchen right behind him. He turned around the corner as I headed towards the door to put on my shoes and grab my bag. I couldn't wrap my head around it. A death at the school, on the night it could be considered to be the most populated. Every student was allowed to attend the dance, from the actual University's students to the underclassmen in the high school program like Carol and Jimmy.

Was their cause so important that whomever had done this was willing to risk being caught for murder? The thought sent a chill down my spine, so I waited for Ryan, taking a few steps back into the safety of the house. And when he finally returned and we both headed out into the driveway I grabbed his hand, opening his palm to give him a still warm and delicious chocolate chip cookie.

 _Something to smile about before all hell breaks loose._

 **xXx**

"Ryan, are you sulking?" I laughed incredulously, poking at his cheek. While I found the situation highly entertaining, I thought he was being a bit immature for someone of his age and stature. Ryan's' glare at my laugh could have set me ablaze, and I was slightly cowed under his anger.

"All you have ever done is encouraged her," he hissed quietly, unwilling to cause a scene. "She is too young for this, too naive and trusting." I brushed aside his sour tone, and my grin - though dimmed - was still firmly in place.

"Of course I encourage her," I muttered under my breath, "you never let me get away with anything. One of us girls should at least have a little bit of fun."

In a way I could understand why he was so upset. Here we were, at the school dance just as it ended, students milling about. We were here, and Carol was _not_. I'd had to explain just who Carol had come with when we'd arrived and been unable to locate her. I'd been right, he was less than pleased by the news.

"That boy." He growled, and I repressed a groan as I watched him clench his fists.

"I'm going to let you in on a little secret," I told him conspiratorially, "You and father and Rodney are trying so desperately to keep Carol in a little box that instead of talking to you about things she is just going to do them behind your back," I stopped to see if the message was sinking in only to see him blink owlishly back at me. _It wasn't._ "like tonight." I finished with a sigh.

"He's not good enough for her, that's all I'm saying." He defended savagely, acting as if I'd never spoke. "They never even made it to the dance. It's been almost fifteen minutes since the dance ended, and they're still not here."

I hummed demurely, "When I talk, do you actually hear what I'm saying or is it all just buzzing to you?" _Another blank stare._ I was getting really tired of that. "I'm just curious."

"They're still not here." He repeated, only seeming to become even more agitated. I resisted the urge to hit him but couldn't stop myself from looking around for something heavy – just in case.

"But you do remember why _we're_ here right? The body in the lab?" I said after a marked silence, my own patience wearing thin.

"Yes," he waved me off impatiently, gaze still trained on the road. "The police have it roped off, no one will wander in." He exhaled a cloud of smoke on the last word, the small pile of cigarette buds littering the ground at his feet a testament to just how nervous he really was. "Wait," he said suddenly, jumping up from where he had been leaning against the car door. "There they are."

"Thank God," I exclaimed, throwing my hands up, "you deal with this, and I'll wait for you in the lab, might as well get the low down on what's happened before they get tired of waiting for us and go home."

He didn't reply, and as I walked away I could hear him start up on poor Jimmy, his tone cold and judgmental. "Taking a girl out into the desert huh Jimmy? That's pretty suspicious. Wouldn't want anyone thinking something untoward had happened, would you?"

The boy stuttered haplessly at Ryan's' approach, and Carol's ensuing outraged squeak suggested that something did indeed happen while they had been out wandering amongst sand dunes. _I would have to ask Carol about it later._

The chilled air inside the school's science building was only slightly less cold than it was starting to get outside, and I wrapped my jacket tighter around my waist. "So, what's the report?" I asked the guard standing watch as I got closer, flashing my ID card and nodding in thanks as he lifted the crime scene tape high enough for me to slip under.

"The body was found an hour ago, we contacted your family because it's the same lab that some of your excavation artifacts are being kept in and well, we figured you'd want to see it. It's not exactly a... routine homicide."

He motioned some of the forensics team to the side, stopping me with a hand on my arm a few feet away. "What do you mean not routine?" I asked slowly, the glances I was receiving out of the corner of everyone's eyes putting me on edge.

"There is a note attached to the murder weapon," He replied just as quietly. "It's written in Ancient Egyptian, and with all the strange things happening around this discovery we figured you'd want to be some of the first on the scene."

There was indeed a note stuck to the body, partially soaked in blood might I add, and as I read over the text with more difficulty than I wanted to admit, I had the sudden urge to throw something.

 _ **Those who have disturbed the King's eternal sleep shall be punished. Death approaches on swift wings.**_

 _Why is it always a curse?_

"I see," I said faintly. "I'm glad you called."

Ryan entered then, a moody Carol trailing in behind him. They both froze at the sight of the body, and I couldn't help but turn away, glad for something else to focus my attention on. "Look," I told them, only slightly sarcastic, "we're going to be in the news again."

 **xXx**

The next day found most of the family lounging in the living room, a particularly strong heat wave making everyone irritable and uncomfortable. I had my feet propped up on Rodney's knees, a book shading my face as I moaned. "It's just so ridiculous. Are we really supposed to believe that someone is so angry about the tomb being discovered that they're going around killing people affiliated with the project?"

"Apparently so," Rodney replied dryly. He had the paper in his hands and was frowning at the front page. I had been completely right, we were indeed a focus of the media. _Once again._ Superstitions and death always a sure-fire way to attract readers.

"Shouldn't you be in school?" He eventually asked, finally taking his eyes off the small headache inducing words printed on cheap paper.

"Nope," I drawled, "today was an exam day, and since the only laboratory on campus that has everything my class needs is still a crime scene, my chemistry grade is just going to have to wait. I didn't have any other classes, so I get to bother you instead."

"Oh joy."

I kicked his knee in exasperation and he dropped the paper, looking about ready to push me off the couch. He growled, "I liked you better when you were spending all your time playing with that clay board you _broke_ because you're graceless."

"Oh yeah well yo-"

"Children," our mother interrupted from the other side of the room, "settle down. We have a guest."

Jimmy had walked in, arm around a very pale looking Carol. Trine rushed over immediately, giving Jimmy a terrible look and stating that she had most likely caught a cold from being out in the desert at night with him, _the shame, and Ryan would most definitely not be pleased_. At the mention of our eldest brother even Jimmy had started to look a little sick. Carol was led to the couch, and I was subsequently shooed away to make room for her. I took a seat instead beside our mother, smiling as she slipped me a sandwich off her plate.

"Ah, Mr. Lido!" Trine called, running up to grab his coat as he walked through the entryway. "Please get the thermometer, Miss Carol is sick."

"What?" He went to see for himself, and frowning over her pained look, promptly turned and headed out to follow Trine's request. "I'll get it right away." He was back in record time, stopping Carols protests by placing the thermometer under her tongue. She gagged, her face twisting into a scowl as people crowded around her, fussing over her blankets and patting her head.

A shadow stretching over the floor from the hallway caught my eye, and I turned to see Isis standing there under the arch of the door, half hidden behind the frame. There was a cruel glint in her eyes, one that made me uncomfortable just looking at it. Not wanting to see anymore, wanting that terrible feeling to disappear, my attention drifted, and I noticed as I forced my gaze away from her face that she was caring a small woven basket, one had placed firmly over the lid like she was trying to keep something inside.

The lid seemed to lift up, a noticeable bump right at the edge. It wiggled, but with a firm shove of her hand, whatever it was disappeared. _Did it really just move?_ But before I could look closer, she moved again, this time out of my range of sight. I shuddered, but I didn't give it another thought. I didn't want too. Didn't want to think about that horrifying flashback or illusion; whatever it had been. I had wanted things to go back to normal, and to do that the things that seemed strange were pushed away, no matter how much my mind was yelling at me to pay attention.

 _I wish I had._

Jimmy came to stand beside me, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. "Your family is a little bit overprotective, aren't they?" he whispered, eyebrows raised. I snorted at his rather defensive tone, knowing the pressure he was receiving from some of said family was getting to him.

"Of course, Carol's the baby of the family. She trips, and an ambulance is on its way before she can blink." I was dead serious too, there were even days I had to take a step back from some of these instances because that type of coddling was just not normal.

"Good," Mr. Lido said, interrupting our conversation. "She doesn't have a fever."

"I told you I'm not sick!" Carol all but shouted, throwing the blanket our father had placed over her legs to the end of the couch in a short fit of anger.

Rodney just laughed and leaned over the couch to ruffle her hair. "Father might be strict, but he'd do anything for you. You're daddy's little girl after all." She scowled at his words, her cheeks tinged pink and giving Jimmy a sheepish look as he approached to pull the blanket back up to her knees and take the empty seat by her feet, finally feeling comfortable enough to approach. He leaned in to whisper something to her, a sly smile on his face. The hand that moved to brush against her leg had my own eyebrows raising and my lips curling in delight. _Looks like someone found herself a boyfriend._

 **xXx**

My gleeful observations to the side, something much more sinister was happening somewhere else in the house. Around the corner in the kitchen, Isis had put down her basket, one hand reaching inside despite the very ominous hissing sound that followed after it had been opened.

She pulled out a snake.

The cobras' eyes were bright and intelligent, and with its neck flared out and its mouth open, the only word that could be used to describe it was _sinister_. She ran a hand down its spine almost lovingly, a vicious grin turning her normally beautiful face into something ugly and malicious. _Poison is a woman's weapon indeed._

 _"Go for the girl."_ She whispered to it viciously.

 _"Aim for her heart."_

Carols death would be a payment, a justice, and it was Isis's to take by right. Or so she thought. The girl's heart was set to be weighed, though the greed was not her own, it would be her end. And the others would follow if things would just... go according to plan.

"Isis what are you doing?" Broken out of her delusions she turned to see Carol's father standing in the entrance, eyes wide and a cup of rapidly cooling tea in his hand. "Is that a snake!" He moved forward as if to rip it from her hands, but her next words stopped him cold.

"Oh dear," she sighed with feigned nonchalance, even as her shoulders tensed slightly. "I've been caught. How unfortunate Mr. Lido, that you're here." His eyes were glued to the serpent still curled around her arm, its fangs glinting dimly as it hissed. "I thought I'd kill Carol, cause you some pain, but now you give me no choice."

Isis said it with a such an air of casualness that it took a moment for the words to sink in, but when it did he reared back, the cup falling from his hands and shattering, the pieces spreading across the floor. Tea seeped into his shoes. Quickly, before he could move or even register what had happened, she had thrown the snake at him, her eyes lit up in feverish delight. It shot across the room in a blur.

He didn't even have time to scream, the cobras' fangs sinking into his neck as he tried to defend himself to no avail.

He fell with a heavy thud.

Isis stepped up to watch him choke, her foot pushing at him until he was lying on his back. She wanted to see his fear, to see him understand the consequences of what he had done.

"Who are you?" He gasped, his hand pressed against his neck as he sluggishly tried to stop the bleeding. The cobra had let go after only a moment and was slithering towards the living room. Towards his daughter.

 _"I am a queen."_ She hissed, her voice rising, "Sister to the Pharaoh Memphis, ruler of all Egypt. The tomb you so callously destroyed was his!" She stopped and moaned, almost seeming to sway as her hands lifted to thread themselves into her hair. "Oh, you ruined everything, we had eternity together, he and I. To rule." Her eyes had become misty and far away. "You took him from me, so I'm taking the something from you. I'll take everything." Stepping over his now prone form, his breathing shallow and slow, she made to follow her snake. "The more you struggle the faster the poison will spread." She said dismissively as she exited the room.

"Your daughter will be joining you soon."

Back in the living room, the snake had already started on its original purpose. It slid across the room unnoticed, finally coming to rest at the edge of the couch, its head slipping underneath Carols' blanket. Isis watched with sadistic satisfaction as it disappeared completely, the rest of this hideous family unaware of the death of their patriarch and oblivious to the plight of their youngest. It was her right to punish them, she told herself. It was her drive, her _curse_.

 _Come on._

She watched Carol stiffen, her voice catching as she looked down at her covered legs in confusion. The boy sitting with her leaned forward to ask her something, growing increasingly worried at whatever whispered reply she gave him. Suddenly, eyes wide, he ripped the blanket off, and the ensuing chaos that followed the discovery of the snake was like music to her ears. Once bitten by the cobra, death was sure to follow, and as panicked footsteps headed towards the kitchen it was only a matter of time – seconds really – before the body of Mr. Lido was found. Isis backed further into the shadows, turning to flee up the stairs and stay out of sight as flashing lights lit up from outside the darkened windows, signaling the arrival of the police, an ambulance in tow.

Her laughter floated back down the stairs.

 **xXx**

It had been a week.

There had been paparazzi at the cemetery and the idea of a private funeral had been pushed completely out the window. I had stood beside Rodney as our father was buried, his grip on my hand was bruising. Ryan and our mother stood at the front, and I could just hear the final words being spoken as the coffin was lowered into the ground. I would have cried had there been any more tears to shed, but I felt hollow, completely emptied out. Things had spun out of control, everything had moved so fast. Father dying, Carol in critical condition at the hospital, our lives falling apart.

 _That stupid stupid note._

Before I even registered what I was doing I had moved up beside Ryan, my hand clutching blindly at his sleeve. There were no tears from our eldest brother, only anger, and with the death of our father, the entirety of the company was his, as was the fallout from the tomb discovery. He was the focus of every media source, and I couldn't remember the last time he'd slept. He looked like the weight of the world had fallen onto his shoulders. Our entire world had.

 _I am so selfish._ But I was going to ask anyway. "I… I can't be here anymore," I choked out, ignoring his startled look. "is it alright if I go to the hospital to sit with Carol?" I knew I should have stayed, been there to support the family, but I just couldn't.

The world was a blur, and I hadn't even waited for his answer before turning and heading towards the back gate, where a car was already waiting. It would drop me off and come back and I just wanted to be gone. The fifteen-minute car ride felt like hours, and when I finally made it into the sterilized bleached building, I found Jimmy sitting forlornly inside her room, flowers in hand.

"Are those for me?" I joked weakly as I shut the door softly behind me. He motioned to the seat beside him, and I was so tired that the hard and worn plastic chair felt like a cloud.

"Where are the others?" he asked, ignoring my question and lifting his bloodshot eyes off the tiled floor.

I shrugged, "They'll be here after the funeral finishes."

Carol lay silently on her bed, her breathing even, and I took one of her hands. She was so warm, the fever covering her in a light sweat. I picked up the bowl full of cold water by her bedside and grabbed the damp cloth that had fallen off her forehead, soaking it before putting it back and smoothing her hair away from her face.

"My condolences Evie."

"Thanks." I muttered, leaning back in my seat with a tired sigh. "We're moving her back home today," I told him after some time had passed, "the doctor said she's stable enough to move to somewhere more comfortable."

I turned to face him, my hand resting on his arm. "You saved her life you know. The doctor said that you sucked out enough of the poison that she lived long enough for the EMT's to be able to administer the antidote when they arrived. I don't think any of us can thank you enough." He smiled, but it was dim and lacked any real warmth.

"Carol is... she's special," he said at last. "and I've waited such a long time to finally... I just always wanted the chance, and I didn't want her to _die_." His voice faded off and he dropped his head into his hands, sounding strained.

"How's your family?" he asked eventually, more to stop the pressing silence that had settled over us than anything else.

"We're all...grieving." I answered. "Our mother is inconsolable, and Ryan, I've never seen him so angry. He told me he won't stop until he finds out who did this, whatever it takes. Rodney just follows him around like he doesn't know what do with himself and I'm hardly home at all, I practically sleep at the lab at school an-" My mouth closed with a snap as I realized I'd been rambling, but Jimmy took it all in stride. He patted the back of my hand consolingly, and we spent the rest of the time before the nurses came in with a gurney to wheel Carol out in relative silence, his gaze focused on my little sisters' face and his fingers laced with mine.

Ryan came to get me later, wanting to drive behind the ambulance as it took Carol home, seeing as she was still comatose. He barely gave Jimmy the light of day before I was gently pulled out of my seat and towards the door. "I don't want you out of my sight." he told me, and his fast pace was too difficult for me to keep up with. I stumbled. The iron grip he had on me was hardly a buffer and I winced as it stopped my fall, his finger unconsciously digging into my skin.

"That'll be a little hard considering I have school, and you have work and I absolutely refuse to be locked up at home seeing as being there hasn't helped anyone else." Lips thinning at my rather insensitive comment he just pulled me faster, nodding his head to the ambulance driver that had been waiting for us outside.

"Don't argue with me Evelyn." He held the car door open for me, following as I got in, following me and putting the car in drive. "You'll be staying _at home_ until we figure this out, so will I as a matter of fact. The partners can handle the business until I return."

"Speaking of figuring this out," I said, my gaze focused on the passing scenery so I wouldn't have to look at him, "we should keep an eye on Isis." Even as I feigned casualness, I could feel his eyes briefly light on my profile, interest piqued. "She was in the kitchen before father... and there's just something about her. It makes my hair stand on end."

"I'll keep that in mind." he said absently, but I had the feeling my warning would be set on the back burner. _Who would ever suspect sad, beautiful Isis._ "Once Carol wakes up, everything will be fine, and that should be any day now."

"Everything is going to be fine."

I couldn't tell if he was trying to convince me or himself.


	7. Chapter 5

A/N - Just really quick want to thank everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed this story. I honestly didn't think I would get a reaction so fast. Which makes me think I shouldn't have posted everything I had pre-written all in one go, but I wanted something there for people to actually read.

Now this chapter is more of a filler, and if you've read the manga (clearly you all have) you know where this is going. My original plan was to keep going, but it's been so long since I last updated, and this was going to get so long that I cut it off. Sorry.

Anyway, don't worry! This is a project I am constantly working on. I'm not kidding. In fact, I'm such a perfectionist that if you were to go back and read it again you'd notice some small differences because I keep going back to revise and end up adding more. Nothing major, but more. Yay? I hope this chapter is alright and that you like it enough you don't stop reading.

Oh! Quick side note. Since I'm just turning the manga into a novel really (with my own OC) I have several scenes I have written, you know for later on in the book. I could post some of the ones relevant to the current time in the story in between posts to give you guys a little something extra between my bigger chapters. Is that something you guys would want?

Thanks again guys, you have no idea what receiving your feedback was like for me, and please hang in there, and feel free to criticize, I do this for you.

 **xXx**

I had been downstairs when Carol finally woke up. Groggy and disoriented sure, but awake and alive. The event itself having been anticipated for days now, Trine practically burst into the room to spread the news, her excitement palpable; a shiver in the air around her. She was speaking so quickly at the time it was hard to understand her until she had calmed down.

When she finally did deliver the news, both Rodney and Ryan were up and off like a shot, down the hall and up the stairs before I could even stand up to follow, shoving Carols poor boyfriend out the door behind them. I had winced in sympathy, his fall not having been especially graceful. The door shut with a resounding slam behind him.

Jimmy had been sitting by her bedside, as he often did after he had finally admitted their relationship to the rest of the household. The anger I had initially been expecting at the revelation was soon overshadowed by the fact he had saved her life. _Lucky boy._ Our mother was so delighted by the fact that Carol had actually managed to snag a boy, in fact, that she had invited him to stay for dinner. He would have been invited to all our dinners had both Ryan and Rodney not been standing beside her, filled with clear distain. She and Trine had been giggling over it nonstop since he'd told them, along with giving him not so sneaky glances when they thought he wasn't looking. Carols newly developing love life was the talk of the house and had been as such for the few days she had been unconscious.

Which of course brought up my own inability to appeal to the opposite sex. A complete tragedy I was told, seeing as I was the eldest girl and wouldn't be young and pretty forever. Blah. Blah. Blah.

But I digress.

Carol had laid about in bed for a while after that, all tears and heartbreak; the news of our fathers' death had been broken to her by none other than Isis herself. Frigidity and without feeling or remorse. To tell her such a thing right after she had woken up, with the fragile state Carol was in. The thought had my stomach turning, and if the way Jimmy had been steadily becoming more and more wary of the dark-haired beauty, he was starting to notice something off about her as well. _At least someone else was_. I was beyond frustrated with the way my concerns were continually brushed aside.

But it was all just so...abnormal. Isis had been adamant about being Carols nurse once she woke up, and was never far from her side, face a fixed mask of concern. The increasing amount of dependency, and even hero worship Carol was developing towards the other girl had my heart locked in a steadily shrinking iron chain, and not because of jealousy as one might think.

No. Carol was far too trusting.

But I had found little time to dwell on such things. With everything that had happened, Mrs. Lido was determined to go back to America, and to take Carol with her. I had pushed my younger sister into going as well. Wanting her to go somewhere safe was the sisterly thing to do, the right thing to do, or so I told myself. _A little white lie for a greater good never hurt anyone._ Half the house had been or was being cleaned and packed away with the exception of the rooms of the few of us who were staying here.

Myself included, a revelation subjected to much undue and _unnecessary_ protest.

Ryan and I had argued about it for what felt like hours, but I was nothing if not stubborn; a trait I told him I picked up from him. After ranting for a while, he eventually backed off, but I could see that he was angry with me. He thought I was willfully putting myself in danger, and maybe I was. But Egypt was all I had ever known, I wasn't going to leave, not unless the whole family left together. _Himself_ included. _I'll leave when you leave._ Which wasn't very likely.

So Ryan in a fit of childish frustration had me working on finalizing the papers he said he needed for his newest project. For his big plan. One that I had to admit that - after I had calmed down enough to listen to him - was pretty genius.

'Selling' the artefacts from the Pharaohs' tomb at an auction, the Kings mummy too, if it was found in time, all to lure out whomever had this ludicrous vendetta against our family. _They had been angry enough to kill after all._ And if they'd been angry when all we had done was open the tomb, imagine the state they would be in if they thought we planned to sell it all off. Or that's what he hoped. Ryan had pulled out all the stops, even asking Isis to help, since having such a _beautiful_ woman helping to manage the sales would make the rouse look more authentic.

Having been coped up in our fathers study all day, I had already called the auction hall and the museum, even managing to contact a few of the local pawn shops to try and track down a few of our 'missing' items. Everything was falling into place quite nicely. But Ryan was so detailed-oriented that expecting anything less was just an insult to his character.

I eventually finished with the rest of the loose paperwork, grumbling under my breath about being my brothers underpaid secretary while carelessly shoving them together in a pile. Not that I was paid at all really. I winced suddenly and frowned at a small paper cut on my thumb. A thin line of blood welled up, a bright red against my skin. I stood to make my way into the kitchen, intent on looking for a band aid.

I failed to notice it was already occupied as I entered.

"Evelyn." Ryan called out from his seat at the table, seemingly surprised to see me. "Done already?"

"Yes." I said shortly, unable to stop myself from sounding petulant. I crossed my arms over my chest and headed the opposite way around the counter from where he was sitting to dig through a drawer. "No thanks to you."

"Good," he replied, steadfastly ignoring my sour mood. He walked over quickly, ushering me towards the living room with a hand at the small of my back. I was tempted to push him away out of spite. "There are two police officers here who want to speak with us."

"Oh," I replied with false shock. "Us? I'm suddenly part of your team now?"

Perhaps I was still a little bitter about him trying to force me to leave the country, and then punishing me when I said no by making me _file papers and call snobby businessmen for hours on end._

But only a little.

"Now now Evelyn," he scolded me softly, "don't be bitter." His grin was easy and warm despite our dour circumstances. But there, under the surface I could see how tired he looked. Worn and sad, and I melted a bit, my irritation fading away to slight annoyance. I wasn't the only one having a hard time. "You'll really let me help?" I asked him after a pause, "No more...putting me in the backseat so to say?"

"Of course," he assured me, and his voice was smooth and soft, "we're in this together after all." The sudden seriousness of his tone caught me off guard, and I looked down, ashamed of my earlier cattiness in the face of his ever-patient civility. We'd been this way since we were kids, my petty anger turning to ashes. I scraped my toes against the cool tiled flooring, half mumbling my soft agreement.

"Evie," He said, pulling me to a stop and lifting up my chin so I would look at him. _Sudden showings of emotional sentimentality make me uncomfortable._ "I've always known I can count on you." He coughed, his voice going quiet.

"It's you and me, right? Especially since you're not going anywhere."

I smiled slightly, only half ill at ease, knowing how hard that must have been for him to say. It took quite a bit of willpower to stop myself from stepping back. Away from him. He had never been one for outward displays of emotion, neither of us were, and the fact that he was trying meant a lot. Even if it made me want to cringe and find the nearest exit. Fast.

Crushing his overwhelming overprotective instincts was a hurdle I was proud of him for sort of jumping over. _The things we do for love._ "You and me." I repeated with a small eye roll, bumping his shoulder with mine to get him to lighten up. He smiled, stepping aside so I could enter the room first. One of the officers, who had previously been seated in front of the coffee table stood as we entered and rushed to shake my brothers' hand, his face flushed from the heat.

"Good evening Mr. Lido." He said, sitting back down in his previously vacated spot. He tipped his hat to me as Ryan pulled out my chair. My brother; ever the gentlemen. "Ms. Lido."

"I've news of your missing mummy." He began briskly, passing a manila folder to Ryan. "A man named Aburara. He owns a pawn shop downtown. Apparently, he has been trying to sell the body on the black market. A foreign millionaire has already placed a bid."

The folder was slid across the table to me, and I opened it to see a few grainy shots of the man in question. A shady loading dock with crates being loaded onto a decrepit looking boat, and at the very back; a file detailing an extensive criminal record. "This man," I questioned hesitantly, "wasn't he rumored to have been involved in three of the tomb robberies that occurred last year?"

"Yes Miss," the officer stated grimly. "He makes his living off of illegally selling Ancient Egyptian artefacts on the Black Market. We believe we'll find the rest of your own missing collection there as well, if he hasn't sold it already. If he has, I'm sure he keeps very... detailed records, hopefully we'll find everything."

"Officer, would it be possible to get the mummy back?" Ryan asked, head in hand as he rested his elbow on his knee. "I plan on having an auction and showcasing the mummy will surely attract buyers."

The officer blanched and shared a look with his partner, who stood by the door. "Sir, I don't mean to pry, but that seems..." He trailed off, unwilling to say more. Poor man looked like he wanted to sink into the ground rather than question my brother. I shot Ryan a look out of the corner of my eye, sizing up his pressed suit and pretty boy features with amusement. _He was terrifying._

"Terrible." I supplied to break the growing tension. "Cruel, insensitive. The list goes on."

He blinked at me in surprise. "Yes," he agreed weakly, "that."

The conversation moved on and my attention wandered. Despite Ryan's encouragements, scheming was a skill that was beyond underdeveloped in my case. I was so much better at cold strategies, no feelings. Only facts. _Yes,_ I told myself. _I was much better at things like that._

And then, over Ryan's shoulder, I could have sworn I saw the curtain twitch, and the soft swish of ivory fabric. _Did I just hear footsteps?_ But the sound was fading, and after several seconds of nothing I brushed it off, though the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

Ryan just laughed – the sound breaking me out of my trance – and waved off the officers' concerns. "Rest assured, I don't plan on actually selling anything." He struck a match, his cigarette soon filling the room with an acrid smoke that hung around our heads like poisonous clouds.

"Whoever has been behind the recent attacks on our family is doing so because of the tomb. Making a spectacle of the discovery and threatening to get rid of priceless treasures seems to me the perfect way to lure out our culprit. After all, cursed objects? Getting rid of them seems like a ploy that most would fall for, it's...believable that we would no longer want such things around any longer."

"I... I see."

"We will of course request a police detail at the auction, just in case."

"Of course, sir."

"Now," My brother continued, getting back on track, "about the mummy."

"A private investigation is being held as we speak. The evidence we hope to obtain should be enough for a warrant." The officer mused. "It's just a matter of time now."

"Perfect." Ryan grinned. "Everything is going according to plan then."

The meeting pretty much over, I excused myself, leaving Ryan to end that serious discussion on a much more pleasant note than I could have achieved and escort the two officers to the door. I made my quick getaway up the stairs. Carol had been quiet for quite a while, and I was far too used to her demanding something every few minutes to even entertain the idea she was asleep, which was what Trine had suggested when I'd asked her about it. So marching up the hall towards her room, I was more than prepared to begin scolding her for whatever mess that had managed to keep her occupied for so long.

"Carol..." I said in a sing song voice, swinging her door wide open.

 _..._

My eyes slid closed, my heart dropping into my stomach, "Damn it."

 _Her room was empty._

I rushed to the window, hoping to find her walking around the gardens. She liked to go outside when she wasn't supposed to, and often sat beneath the trees lining the house. Instead of that pretty picture however, all I got was the nightmare inducing image of Carol leading a very reluctant looking Isis out our front gate and into the busy streets of Cairo. I pulled back quickly, hands tugging at my hair in frustration. That foolish girl. Why did she always have to do things like this?

It wasn't that I didn't think she couldn't handle herself, we had both grown up wandering these streets, and Carol often went on shopping trips alone into the city. No, I wasn't worried about that. It was that she was still shaky, not fully recovered from being, oh you know, _poisoned_. She should have known better, the entire family was on edge, for heaven's sake even I was on house arrest. _Because there was a crazy fanatic stalking our family and killing people._ But that didn't bother Carol, no, she _of course_ , felt safe enough to wander the streets without protection. Not to mention she was with the one person who I was pretty sure would leave her for dead if she happened to collapse from overexertion.

 _Should I go after her?_

 _Or trust her and wait here?_

 _ **Should I tell Ryan?**_

To tell or not to tell, that is the question.

That little problem however, was solved nearly a half hour later when Jimmy led Carol and a distraught looking Isis back into our living room. I could hear them as they entered, the sound of hushed voices and hesitant footsteps. Ryan could as well, and stood up from his seat across from mine, face set in a scowl and eyes blazing.

"You!" He called as they all shuffled into the room, and with his long stride he was in front of her within moments. "Why don't you ever listen to me?" She shrank under the force of his glare, any answer she could have given fading before she could say it. Although our brothers voice was not raised or overly angry, it held a depth of emotion that conveyed more than anger. The disappointment was worse, somehow.

"Jimmy," he continued slowly, and his voice was like velvet, smooth and dangerous in its intensity, "if I find out you've taken her outside again..."

"It wasn't me!" Jimmy quickly defended himself, going as far as to take a few steps back and hide behind Carol as our brother towered over them. Ryan only scoffed and reached to pull our little sister forward, turning instead to our _esteemed_ guest.

"You as well Isis, would do well to remember the fragile state Carol is in, and to not overextend it." He pushed a protesting Carol towards our mother and held out a hand to help me up from my seat, completely dismissing the two people still behind us as he led me away.

"That was a bit harsh," I cautioned, "even for you."

"I will not risk her health for something foolish, if she had wanted fresh air the garden is just outside."

"That's not what I meant." I pressed softly, hoping he'd get the hint.

He did. "Carol, and you, are my top priorities. Tolerating stupid mistakes that could lead to you or her getting injured is not something I'll do. We have to be careful. It's why I want you both to stay in the house, no matter how much you dislike it." He added the last part on dryly, and for my expense. I had fought with him over my current lockup more than I ever had since meeting him. Neither of us were pleased with the fact.

"I'm taking Carol back upstairs," he muttered to me eventually. "Try not to wander off." Glaring at his back, I was tempted to leave if only to spite him. But I was not so childish, or so cruel. And speaking of at least one of those attributes, I could hear Carols voice from where I was standing, her riled reprimands over our brothers' behavior the same I had just expressed.

"-ouldn't treat her that way! You and Isis need to get married!" _With a few_ _ **minor**_ _differences._

 _Marrying Isis? Now that would be cruel._

I couldn't help but shiver. The notion that Carol was proposing was common. Our mother and Trine seemed just as invested in the idea of Isis joining our family in a much more...permanent manner than simply staying with us in our home. The idea itself was more than distasteful, it was repugnant, and hopefully shared amongst the two poor boys it was aimed at. Being attached to that woman for an entire lifetime seemed like a punishment neither Rodney nor Ryan deserved.

 **xXx**

Preparations for the auction started immediately after, so the next few days were utter turmoil. The entirety of the museum staff had pitched in, repairing broken artefacts and managing set up. Now there was nothing to set up anymore. We opened in two hours, and there was already a line outside the doors, the clamor of too many voices merging into a steady thrum of white noise. Indistinguishable. Ryan was already surrounded, finishing touches being lined up in front of him for his final decision. Because of my own embarrassing clumsiness, I was only allowed to assist with decorating, as well as playing hostess along with Isis when - _hopefully if_ \- she arrived.

 _No gagging now._

But that would be later. The little incident she'd had the day before had her under the constant watch of our caretaker for most of the night and well into the morning. Trine would have had Isis stay home completely. It was by the girls own insistence that she would be here. How inspiring.

I rather hoped she'd be too sick to attend.

She and Carol had been snooping around my room yesterday. _Just looking for some of your notes,_ Carol had told me. _For the auction, so Isis knows what she's talking about._ What a lie. I was under the belief that Isis knew more about Ancient Egypt than anyone I knew.

So when the screaming had started and I'd run up the stairs and burst through the door expecting to see my little sister hunched over a shaking Isis, only to find the room completely devoid of anything scream-worthy. Well, I was understandably upset. After taking our guest away, Carol had lifted a trembling finger and pointed to my desk, where a drawer was half open.

"She saw that," she whispered, eyes wide, "and she just started screaming."

 _The clay board._ I'd almost finished it. It was easier to read now, and with this new clarity one could easily see the name engraved over the top in pretty painted hieroglyphs. Isis, it read.

Isis. _The irony._

But that was yesterday, and today was an entirely different matter. I didn't currently have the time to ponder over strange ironies. Carol would be here soon, Jimmy in tow as her guard for the evening. Chancing a glance at my brother I couldn't help but sigh at his _involved_ expression. I had convinced Ryan to show them around when they arrived, to take a moment away from all his hard work and actually enjoy the auction; it truly was a magnificent spectacle.

He hadn't been all that hard to convince. But from where I stood by the door, watching as he was surrounded by an endless sea of people all vying for his attention, it seemed as thought that was a promise he wouldn't be able to keep. With Carol would come Isis, and my job would begin, or end really. I could admit with absolutely no shame that the idea of being the ugly hostess for the evening was not an idea I enjoyed. But what girl would.

No one would be asking me any questions tonight.


	8. Chapter 6

I had paled in comparison to Isis.

Perhaps I was being childish. A fact I wouldn't have admitted to at the time. But I so rarely allowed myself these small bouts of immaturity that I had felt entitled. _Just this once,_ I told myself, _nobody has to know the extent of my loathing but me._

I just couldn't help it. The sheer amount of knowledge she seemed to have concerning ancient artifacts far surpassed my own. And let's be honest; no one likes to be shown up. I was not exempt from that rule, it was just that it rarely ever happened. _She was better than me_ and it stung. My family sang her praises, and it seemed as though the unease and repulsion she inspired was completely one-sided. Naturally, I was upset.

Overall, the entire ordeal… it made me wonder if she hadn't been involved in the more illegal side of acquisition before we'd met her.

To add insult to injury I had been receiving worried looks from my oh so loving family for the better part of the afternoon. My mother had even gone so far as to pull me aside, assuring me that I was pretty too and couldn't let this hurt my self-confidence. Rodney had snickered behind her back, his mouth full of food. _How humiliating_.

Now Isis's looks being a grade or too above mine was something I could have cared less about. That kind of attention was how girls ended up dead if they weren't careful. So, I shouldn't want that kind of attention. I didn't. I had said as much, only to end up with more kind appeasements from my ever-supportive mother, a dry chuckle and a pat on the head. I could brush off the comments over my outfits, my hair, my lack of social graces.

None of that mattered. I wasn't vain.

 _I was prideful,_ and I was proud of my education. The snide looks she had been sending me all evening only cemented the idea that not only did she know I was envious, she enjoyed it.

 _What a bitch._

I had been pushed aside as a hostess of the evening the minute she'd shown up and the sea of dazed male admirers that followed her around was big enough to drown in. The mob of jealous wives and girlfriends was even bigger. So, the refreshment table had become my refuge. I didn't care how many looks I got for keeping all the best desserts for myself. Not to mention it was a fantastic vantage point with which I could see the entirety of the auctions ground floor.

Carol and Jimmy were standing by the closed sarcophagus, holding hands and giggling in a way that made my stomach turn. They were edging towards the door, giving each other the type of look that made me wish someone other than me was noticing. I searched for any form of parental guidance to shove their way and came up blank.

Ryan was with the professor and a few of the museums' board members, his plastered business smile blinding even from where I stood hidden away in a corner. Turning, I pretended not to see as he tried to catch my eye and motioned me over. _Help me,_ he mouthed. I couldn't help but notice the white-knuckled grip on the scotch glass he was holding was starting to look downright painful.

Then there was our mother, who was thoroughly put out after my less than enthusiastic reaction to her pep talk, and then my adamant refusal of the coincidental meeting with 'a very nice boy' whom she thought I just had to meet. I blamed my aforementioned poor social skills for whatever insult that eventually caused him to walk away. My eventual avoidance of her was even more off-putting apparently, if the sulky glances and two empty martini glasses were anything to go by.

Neither of them seemed like prime candidates for putting a stop to teenage indiscretions.

"Evie," Carol called, and I turned to watch as she pulled a reluctant Jimmy across the room towards me. "Hey," she grinned at me, "so... Jimmy and I want to get some fresh air."

"Thanks for the heads-up Carol," I told her, only half amused.

"Your welcome. But really, I need you to do me a tiny favor." She was clinging to my arm now, pushing me forwards and away from the dessert table. Away from safety.

"Well, that depends on what you want."

She giggled nervously, and it didn't escape my notice that for our entire exchange Jimmy had remained uncharacteristically silent. He tended to take after his grandfather, able to talk endlessly without really saying anything at all. There was none of that tonight. But my sister just gave me a simpering smile, her lacquered nails digging into my arm. "Nothing too terrible, we just need you to tell Ryan we're leaving for us." I pulled us to a stop and gave brief thanks that I hadn't currently been eating any of the desserts, because I probably would have choked on it.

"No." I said, "No way, that's like asking me to hold a firework with my bare hands after you've lit it." I made sure to include Jimmy as I continued my statement, "If there was a stronger statement than no, I would use it. I won't take this bullet for you. If you want to leave than you're going to have to ask him yourself."

Carol just rolled her eyes and continued to tug me towards our brother. "Now you're just being dramatic. But besides that, you're creative! You can think of something. This is where all that diplomacy, that charm you learned from debate team comes in handy."

"I was never on the debate team."

"Semantics." She sighed and swiveled to face me. I groaned as she widened her eyes. That pouty look was just as pathetic as the fact that it actually worked on me. "Please, I'll owe you one."

"Fine," I conceded after a moment, "but under one condition. I get to chaperone you wherever you two are going." I leaned back, feeling smug. After all, it was surprisingly hard to win an argument with Carol once she started pulling out her more manipulative tactics. All of which she learned from me, or so I liked to tell myself.

"What?"

 _There it is._

Jimmy's voice broke me out of my musings, and I frowned as he shoved my shoulder to stand next to my sister. "Not gonna happen, this outing is kind of private." His faced darkened at the end and I smiled, reaching over to ruffle his hair in a gesture that was only a tiny bit condescending.

"That's exactly why I want to come."

He scowled, and I thought absently that it was a decidedly poor expression for him to have. It made his features sour. "Don't you have that clay board to reveal later, we wouldn't want you to miss that. It might be the only time tonight you receive more than two peoples' attention."

Now it was my turn to frown. _Why was it that every time the boy opened his mouth, I immediately wanted him to close it?_

I bared my teeth in a feral rendition of a grin. "I gave it to your grandfather to complete. He was so excited for the opportunity that I just couldn't say no when he asked if he could present it later. How lucky that my schedule is all cleared up and I can go with you." I pinched his cheek and made sure to mention that if he kept making that expression his face would freeze that way.

"Done." Carol agreed quickly as she pushed herself between Jimmy and I. "But remember, be persuasive." I just waved my arm at her and straightened out my dress.

"Oh, I'll be persuasive."

Ryan wasn't hard to find now that I was _mingling._ I just went to the biggest cloud of smoke in the room, and bingo, there he was. He noticed I was there immediately, of course, and the grip he had on my arm soon after was firm. If not a bit patronizing. "What are you doing here?" He whispered against my hair. His smile was starting to look strained. I moved awkwardly to pat his shoulder.

"Relax, I'm only here to tell you something and then I'll get out of your way."

"That is not what I meant. I wanted you to pull me away, not come over." I was spared from replying as my brothers' business associates nudged him aside to greet me.

The handshakes all lasting a little bit too long, the compliments all a little too personal. Being around these people made my skin crawl. After a few minutes of mindless pleasantries, I was finally able to break away and take Ryan with me. "Perhaps we can speak somewhere that's... not here." I told him quietly, "Those men are lepers." He shot me an admonishing look that I promptly ignored. I moved us out of the open showroom and into the space covered by the second-floor balcony.

So focused was I on getting away from the unpleasant side of business, that I didn't even know anything had occurred until someone behind us screamed and my world went sideways.

It actually took me a second longer than everyone else to see what had happened; I was busy picking myself up off the floor. "Evelyn are you alright?" The wind knocked out of me, I had to shove Ryan off the bottom half of my legs before I stood. His sheepish grin at being my knight in shining armor only made the situation worse.

"I'm fine," I assured him, but I was gripping the front of his jacket so tightly my knuckles were white from the strain. "And you? Are you hurt?"

He laughed, but it was weak. He slung his arm around my shoulders and began to pull me towards the large crowd forming around the shadowed arch we had been about to enter. "Are you kidding? I had a pretty soft landing." Any other time I might have made a joke about him calling me fat, but not now. The room had stilled; panic being replaced with the softer version of chaos. Curiosity. Pushing past the accumulated crowd, it was easy to see what had caused the current pandemonium.

A gleaming silver sword shook in place from where it had become embedded in the floor. Right where Ryan had just been standing.

Security had already begun to herd people away as I stared, and I heard shouts for those on the second floor to not touch any more of the artifacts on display. "Really," I muttered darkly, "and he pushed me out of the way." Seeing that no one had been unfortunate enough to be pinned by the deadly part of the blade, I quickly turned to get back to my original objective. Carol and Jimmy were already trying to make a break out the back door without me.

There was a quick flash of anger, that she would leave after an attempt on Ryan's life. But that faded quickly and then I was just disappointed.

I knew Carol was still grieving, feeling overwhelmed, and I could understand the lure of young love. Something positive and good to hold onto while the rest of us drowned. But her lack of thought for the family we still had left me feeling sick. Torn, I hesitated to go after her, instead turning to look back towards Ryan.

But Ryan was no longer concerned with my safety. Or his own. I practically hissed at him as he prodded the blade with his fingers, and it came as no surprise to see him bleed as he tested the edge. It took me tugging – although he would later claim I was rather rough – on his sleeve to finally get his attention. Half of it anyway.

"Ryan, I just wanted to let you know that I'm taking Carol and her friend out for some air." He nodded distractedly, eyes scanning the upper landing. I left before common sense could kick in and he realized that letting us wander about while someone with a potentially dangerous vendetta against our family might be present and poised to attack once again.

I mean it's not like it was glaringly obvious or anything.

 **xXx**

"Stay behind us the whole time." I mocked lowly.

It had only taken a few seconds after Jimmy had parked the car for both of them to jump out and slam the doors, leaving me behind. I was just lucky we hadn't gone very far from the museum; we were well within walking distance, and it was visible from where I was standing. We had literally just driven up the riverbank in his shiny red car and then back down. I was under the impression that the boy was just showing off. Half of his trust fund was the convertible we were driving in, after all.

And keeping up with his imperious attitude; he had been the one to demand at least ten feet of space between me and the dream date they were apparently on. A date which seemed to consist of them running around and Jimmy unceremoniously pinning her to various trees to try and place untalented and altogether unexperienced kisses all over, well, all of her... It was nauseating. But because I was supportive-ish and only slightly nosey, I had been completely understanding when Carol had pulled me aside and begged me to _please please please_ hang back a bit more so they could actually have some privacy.

I most certainly did not feel snubbed. Not at all.

I would have kept standing there dejectedly if that black blur hadn't rushed by. Close enough to brush the dress I was wearing and send me stumbling away, I pitched forward onto my knees, landing with a soft thump onto damp sand. I scrambled up a second later, however, when Carol's shriek of surprise pulled me out of my own.

The scene I was met with was rather anticlimactic. My sister stood alone a few feet in front of me, and I nervously pulled her away from a rather steep incline leading down to the river. "Where's Prince Charming?"

She blinked, her expression lacking the bite I was expecting at my use of her boyfriend's nickname. "Isis's dog ran by," she said slowly, "and there was all this yelling from the museum, so he went to check it out."

"So, he just left you here alone? And me. He left us both." I turned, seeing his car still parked behind us. "He even left his car…"

She huffed, sounding frustrated, "Stop sounding so disappointed. You were around the corner the entire time."

I scoffed and laughed, not caring how cruel the sound might have been. "Something he never failed to complain about every five minutes." I resisted the urge to hit her as she rolled her eyes, choosing instead to latch onto her to pull on her arm. "Come on, Ryan will be worried. We should head back too."

"Oh no need," Carol told me, and as she dug her heels into the ground to stop me, I couldn't help but lurch forward. I lost my grip on her arm. "Isis came to get us." She sounded thrilled.

Me? Not so much. I narrowed my eyes at Isis's approaching figure, an uneasy feeling making my stomach roll. She was moving so fast, looking behind her like she expected someone to be there chasing her. Carol had taken a few steps forward as if to meet her, and I could see the shock on her face when she realized the other girl wasn't slowing down.

It looked the way I thought getting hit by a train might look, and just like with a crash I couldn't tear my eyes away. Carol flew back towards the edge of the cliff from the force, and then over it, heading headfirst into the Nile. She screamed as she fell, the sound loud enough to make my ears ring. My eyes widened, and I ran forward hoping to catch her.

But I was too slow, and when it became clear that catching her was a fool's errand I skidded to a stop, sand slipping past my feet. My heart pounded, and it seemed as though time both sped up and slowed down. I could see every detail of her face as she fell but couldn't move fast enough to grab her. I turned on Isis, shocked and angry, "You crazy bitch."

She smiled. _She smiled at me._ And I felt violated. This girl, who we had helped, sheltered, let into our lives, had the audacity to look as though she had done nothing wrong. It was beautiful and cruel, and I had never hated anything in my life the way I hated her in that moment.

I was breathing too fast. _Hyperventilating._ I told myself. _You need to breathe._ But I couldn't. And then I turned my back on Isis to scan the Nile again. It was a bad idea.

I searched the current, looking for my sisters' bright blonde hair in the murky water, and found nothing. She wasn't here. She wasn't anywhere. So, I opened my mouth to scream. We were close enough to the museum, Ryan would hear me, and he would come. He would find her. I knew he would. I could feel the air as it entered my lungs, how dry it was, hot and acrid. It would only take a second. Just one. But I didn't get the chance.

I felt her hands, the cold burn of the them as they pressed in between my shoulder blades to tip me over. I twisted as I fell, reaching out in a panic, trying to grab onto whatever I could to keep myself from falling. There was a moment of weightlessness and fear, and I just couldn't comprehend _how this had happened_.

My mouth was full of water moments later, and I was choking on it. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't focus.

The water was cold compared to the air I had just been standing in, and I gasped upon contact; pulling water into my lungs. There was a flash of black with me in the water, floating around my head, my arms. One of my hands tangled in it, and I pulled absently to free it in my addled state. But I wanted air, and I started to struggle, trying to shove my way up to the surface.

There was a vicious amount of pleasure at seeing a handful of the black come away with my fingers as I flailed; one I couldn't explain. Moving upwards was impossible, however; there was an iron grip on my arms, pulling me further underwater. The surface seemed so far away, and the black that had seemed just a flicker before was beginning to cover anything, the murky green of the river fading away.

I was going to pass out and die.

 _Crap._

 **xXx**

Small hands were curled around the back of my head, helping tip my body to the side as someone else pounded hard on my back. Water bubbled up my throat with each hit, and I turned to expel what felt like the entire river out of my body. I was pulled up and leaned over a shoulder, and I groaned in protest at the movement.

"Try not to move so much," a woman's voice told me, a hand pulling the wet hair out of my face as I coughed, "we need to get you out of here, it's getting dark. The soldiers will be here soon." Not wanting to waste time, she looped her arms around my torso to get me to stand.

My head swam, and my throat burned, but I still managed to push words past my lips, "No, no wait." I stumbled, my feet catching in the loose dirt as we walked, but even as my head swam and my vision blurred, I managed to press my point. A boy trotted by our side, his eyes wide and curious. "My sister fell, she fell too."

We were moving away from the Nile, and I was already starting to shiver in my wet clothes as the temperature continued to drop. I turned to scan the riverbed, hoping to suddenly see her. But I was not so lucky, and nothing but flat river land greeted me as we headed further away. I made to stop and pull her with me, but she was relentless, a new sense of urgency coloring her tone as the sun continued to set.

"My son will look for her," the woman tried to soothe me, and at her insistence the boy turned to sprint back down the water's edge, heading back the way we had come and following the current. "But we need to get inside now, we don't want to get caught breaking curfew." She went on to explain the construction site near their village, and the fact that their rather large workforce was accompanied by a rather vicious set of overseers. There had been instances already, she said; paroles were now more frequent, punishments harsher.

"When I saw you…" she whispered, "I thought you were dead, that maybe they had done that to you, but then I saw you move. I could not, in good conscience, leave you there."

I could see the outlines of stone buildings ahead of up in the dying light. Small worn buildings amassing around a well-used square. "Gosen," she explained when she noticed my gaze, "my home." We entered one of the huts closest to the river, one of the only three buildings to circle the very outskirts of the small habitation.

 _I knew that name, I knew this place. A small village outside Egypt's former capital Thebes. A slave village._

One that had been uninhabited for thousands of years; it had flooded, the homes of the people who lived there completely wiped away. Hundreds of people had died, left behind to their fate.

But the leveled barren area of land I had once encountered while on a school trip was most definitely not what I was currently seeing. My head hurt enough for me to know I wasn't dreaming, and I wouldn't have been able to dream something like this up if I had tried. I turned to the woman helping me walk, noticing for the first time her threadbare clothes and worn, tired expression. She met eyes with a withered smile,

"We'll be safe here." It was hard to believe that was true. We moved towards one of the huts closest to the villages edge, and as she hurried me through the entryway, her eyes continuously flickered behind us to make sure no one was watching. Her nervousness set me on edge, and I found myself shivering for reasons completely unrelated to the cold. I was set down gently on a roughly packed mattress and given a blanket to cover myself while she took my wet clothes.

I pulled the rough cloth closer, feeling self-conscious, "I don't know your name." I murmured. She moved around her small home with ease, the tight space and lived in clutter seeming hardly an obstacle. She stood over a small fireplace, lifting a crude looking kettle of a hanging hook. She filled two clay cups with whatever was inside and came back to take the empty seat by my side. I took the cup offered, too chilled to spare a thought for what might be in it.

"Sephora," she told me, drinking deeply from her own cup. We sat for several moments in silence, and as my shivering slowed, I took a moment to be immensely thankful for her obvious kindness after Isis's cruelty.

"Thank you," I whispered, afraid to really break the silence, "my name's Evelyn." Sephora didn't say anything else, she just smiled and took my cup.

There were questions in the quiet now that we were no longer in danger of being caught, but they were held back. Instead, I was tucked in, and despite the slight indignation at being treated like a child, I couldn't help but relax at the motherly action. It was comfort in a chaotic situation.

"My son Sechi will be back soon," she assured me, "hopefully with your sister. We will all have to be up with the dawn, so you should get some sleep." My eyes were already beginning to close as she spoke, my body finally starting to shut down now that I was no longer moving.

If I slept, I slept fitfully. Morning came far too soon, and it seemed like minutes later I was being shaken away, a dark bundle of cloth shoved into my arms. Still half asleep, I dressed in a daze, eventually requiring Sephora's' assistance to put on the simple dress and headscarf she had given me. We bound my hair back completely, hiding it as best we could, and I paled as Sephora explained the danger Carol and I currently found ourselves in.

The brutality she described made my stomach lurch, and I was suddenly very grateful for my meager and bland breakfast. "We will disguise you and your sister, cover your hair and darken your skin. You will join us as we go about our day. It is better to hide you among the crowd, than risk having you found alone here." As she spoke, a bell rang from the center of the small village; a call to work.

They had found Carol, I could hear her frightened cries as she woke and found herself in unfamiliar surroundings. I could also hear Sechi, his own voice rising in placations. She was led into the room a few moments later, her tears only multiplying as her gaze caught mine. She was in my arms seconds later, and I couldn't understand any of the words that came tumbling from her mouth besides _"21st century", "crazy"_ and " _home"_. The confusion of our hosts was clear. I had told them earlier that morning that Carol and I had been carried here by the Nile, and while that was true, I had also refused to elaborate.

What happened to us was crazy, and it sounded crazy. Having my naive younger sister spew it all out in a fit of hysteria was not what I had expected to happen.

I tried to calm her, whispering in her ear to take a deep breath and stop talking. The looks she was receiving from the people currently saving our lives were not exactly encouraging. So, I buried her head in my shoulder and hoped it would be enough to muffle her words until she calmed down. But as the bell continued to ring and the shouts of the soldier began to move closer, I was forced to pull away and the seriousness of my expression finally enough to break through her shock.

With Sephora and I working together, we managed to dress her in a similar fashion to what I was in, and while she cringed at the idea of covering herself in mud, it was done without further complaint. We were both soon unrecognizable. And just in time; a harsh knock on the door was followed by a final order: get to work.

"Both of you keep your heads down," Sephora insisted, and I winced as she pulled my head covering into a more secure position. "Pretty girls are subjected to much worse than hard work if they catch the eye of a soldier or aristocrat overseeing the temple's construction." I shivered at the implication.

"I won't go." Carol declared feebly, "If a man tries to drag me off, I'll refuse." Sechi scoffed however and began to herd us all out the door and into the harsh desert sunlight.

"You can try," he told her quietly, "but the punishment for refusal is death." After a final wave and a promise to be careful, he was taken with the rest of the men to resume building.

Shocked into silence by the admission, we both obeyed as Sephora demanded we remain close. A water jug was shoved into my arms by another haggard looking worker - I shuddered at the term slave - and we were directed past the construction site, towards the river. We set off at a brisk pace with the other women heading down the path, hiding in plain sight.

We made several trips in silence, and by our fourth trip my back was aching, and I could clearly feel the dirt staining my skin beginning to fade as I started to sweat under the heat. _Reapplying it at the base of the river should help, Carol should as well._ She had been crying on and off all day, and her face was looking streaky. I was so preoccupied that Carol stopping in the path ahead of me completely escaped my notice. I bumped into her, my jug slipping from my grasp and shattering on the ground in front of my feet.

"Carol, what the hell?"

"Evie, shut up!" she hissed at me.

Even Sephora had stopped, and she came over to grab both our arms, "Girls we have to keep moving."

"No wait," Carol insisted, and she turned to me, her voice dropping, "Evie look!" She pointed to the pavilion in front of the construction site; the one I tried really hard not to look at for fear of attracting the wrong kind of attention. But I didn't have to look. It was the voice that gave it away.

"I want this finished in five days. The incompetent can be sent to work the mines, or to my sister." The last part was said with a knowing glint, and the sudden flash of a silver knife in my mind's eye was enough to make me sick.

"Memphis." I breathed his name like a curse, unbelieving. Sephora followed our eyes and attributed our stop to curiosity.

"Seventy days ago, the Pharaoh passed away, his seventeen-year-old son will ascend the throne. He is having this temple built in honor of his father." She paused in her explanation and cast her eyes around to watch the guards. "He is an arrogant and selfish boy, with a fierce temper."

"If he's here, maybe Isis is too," Carol said, "maybe she can send us back home." She turned to Sephora, "He does have a sister, right?"

"Yes, but I've never seen her. She hides away in the shrine of the temple, a high priestess like no other."

By now we had wandered closer, and the shrewd eyes of one of the overseers had picked us out as the only women in a group primarily composed of men.

"Hey, keep moving," he shouted, and the crack of his whip was an ominous precursor to our possible punishment. Sephora was quick to listen and pull us out of the way, but her hand loosened and Carol slipped free. A huge stone sphinx was being pulled on a wheeled platform into the temple's courtyard by a multitude of men, the huge stone wheels kicking up enough dust to make a small sandstorm that was swept away on the wind.

She was called away towards the temple wall and surrounded, the demands for water loud enough to be heard even from where we were standing. I could hear her asking questions and couldn't help but roll my eyes. She was the only girl I knew who could be in a potentially life-threatening situation and still find time for archeology. Thankfully, something else caught her attention and I recognized Sechi scaling down the wall to meet her.

 _Hopefully, he could keep her out of trouble until we meet up again._

"Girl," a hand landed on my shoulder, and I turned to see a young woman standing behind me, "that man is calling for you." Her hands were shaking, and I took the small water pitcher she handed me with no small amount of confusion. She shoved me forward, and as I straightened it only took a few seconds for me to realize that it hadn't been me that man had been calling for at all. There was a brief flash of anger, but really, I couldn't blame her. I would have done the same thing.

I was facing a small, squat man. He was well dressed, though even that did nothing to make him more attractive and was sitting on a raised chair above the crowd. Chancing a glance behind me, I couldn't see the girl who had stopped me anywhere. A gold chalice was lowered down into my line of sight and I immediately dropped my head, Sephora's previous warning ringing in my ears. I fought off panic as I raised my pitcher to fill his glass. Such was my fear that I didn't hear as the aristocrat asked me a question.

But I could feel his hand as it wrapped around my wrist, and my skin crawled. I froze but still did not look up. All thoughts of my younger sister had long since fled my mind.

"Girl, I asked your age."

I refused to answer. My eyes closed against my will, and as I lowered the pitcher I bent at the waist in a show of submission, keenly aware of the meaty hand still locked around my own.

He pulled once more, this time clearly impatient, "Look at me, let me see your face." The order was clear, and as I remained still, another slave moved towards me, his hand raised to strike.

I had not been physically struck since the Rido's had taken me in, so the pain spreading across my left cheek was unexpected. I fell to my knees from the force of the blow, my arm finally free. I held a hand up to my face, the sting spreading into my jaw. A snort of disgust from above me finally broke the spell, and all the sounds and sensations I had been blocking out came rushing back all at once with overwhelming force.

"Are you mute?" The same man that had asked for water turned from me, attention already shifting away. "Get lost."

I didn't need any further persuasion. Hiding in the crowd I set out to find Sephora, seeking safety, and no small amount of comfort.

But I didn't find safety, I found chaos. I was pushing my way through a large crowd, seeming all the more out of place as they were all standing still. As I moved forwards, I could hear panicked yells, even begging, but no one moved forward to help. My concern only grew as I recognized one of the terrified voices as being Carols.

"Holy shit."

Sephora's legs were being pinned beneath one of the stone wheels of the platform transporting the sphinx, her panicked screams being mirrored by my sister, who stood by her side, frozen. I watched, a new sense of horror filling me as a minute later Carol seemed to break free of the haze clouding her mind and began to scale the now stationary wheel. I rushed forward to wrap my arms around Sephora's waist, to try and pull her out, to help, to do something other than just stand there.

She moaned and struggled to push me away, "They'll kill her; you have to get her down." She pushed again, her moan becoming another scream as she slipped free and I stumbled back with her still in my arms.

I noticed for the first time the blood seeping out from underneath the stone, and I quickly set her down, unable to stop the tears running in rivers down my face, "There's so much blood."

And with a thud Carol was next to me, having been thrown by the man directing the workforce we had unceremonious stopped. He jumped down, landing on his feet to stride forward to grip Carol's arm and place a knife to her throat.

"You should learn to keep your mouth shut girl," he warned her. The small crowd of slaves around us had long since fallen silent, all of them watching, and listening. The man glared as he noticed their eyes focused on him, and his lips twisted into a cruel sneer. "I'll show you why you should respect your betters." As he raised his knife, I finally did what I had tried to do the first time Carol had a knife pointed at her; I ran forward and grabbed his arm, halting his progress.

"Evelyn!" Sephora's loud scream shattered the silence that had settled in the area, and the crowd began to murmur, pressing closer.

"Please sir," I gasped, letting go of his arm to fall to my knees next to my sister, "forgive her. She is a child; she knows not the offense she has given." Carol sank against me at the look on his face, burying her face in my lap, and I unconsciously pulled her closer.

"Please." I begged him, "Please."

The man laughed and raised his knife once more. But no one ran to stop him this time; instead, it was a single word that stayed his blade.

"Stop."

Almost seeming bored, a tall imposing man stepped forward. The jewels at his neck and covering his belt glittering under the sun, and the overseers surrounding us bowed in a show of recognition and respect. The man before us stilled and went pale, the knife falling from his grip to land in the sand by his feet, "General Minue." The generals cloak swept over my head as he passed me, pulling at that scarf I had used to cover my hair, pulling it out of place. I hardly noticed.

"Just forgive the girl," he drawled, "His Majesty wishes this temple built in his fathers' honor and image, do not stain it with a child slaves' blood."

Shouts for work to pick back up spread rapidly at the generals' command, and soon we were no longer the center of everyone's attention. No, we were just the center of his. The general turned, and I was stunned by the intensity of his eyes, but as they narrowed, whatever thanks might have been on my lips faded. He wasn't looking at me, not really.

He was gazing a bit to the side, as though there was something on my face and he couldn't decide whether or not he wanted to tell me about it. I turned my head slowly, as though any sudden movement would push him into action and saw what exactly it was he was staring at. A glint of gold shone in the corner of my eye, and I lifted my hand to find my headscarf had come loose, and a lock of my hair was now free by my temple.

I hid it quickly and lowered my gaze. But there was no exclamation of surprise from him, no anger, just softly spoken words only loud enough for me to hear, "Go." he urged me, "the woman will be released from work while she heals. Take her home and give her proper care." He was gone before I looked up, and as the shaking in my limbs subsided, I eventually got up the nerve to nudge Carol, telling her to help me lift Sephora off the ground.

She did, but her face was like ash, gray and pale, and I observed with growing worry the steely determination coloring her blue eyes. It didn't bode well, this new look. But I didn't have time to dwell. Both our hands were covered in blood, and I had shed more tears during this one day than I had in years. Her expression made me think I might just have to shed more of both before all of this was over. The hollowness I felt spreading through my heart was reflected in Carol's eyes, and I silently mourned the loss of her innocence.

"When Memphis ascends the throne," she vowed to me quietly, "I will go into Thebes, find Isis and make her send us home. I don't want to be here for a moment longer." My lips thinned in displeasure, but I sighed, unwilling to argue when there were more important things to be worrying about.

"Alright," I told her, "but let's take care of Sephora first."


	9. Chapter 7

Sephora was a model patient. We had taken her home in relative silence after the accident. Managing the half hour walk back, she had passed out only two feet from the door. Carol and I were relieved to discover her blood loss had not been nearly as traumatic as we had first assumed. A broken bone and a deep but non-fatal cut were practically a miracle compared to the horror I had been expecting.

As for treatment, there was no doctor in Gosen. We made do with what we could find. Constructing a splint and resetting the bone had been easy enough between the two of us. Although neither my sister nor I had ever expected the survival first aid classes Ryan had once made us take 'just in case' would ever actually be useful.

I had never been more grateful for his paranoia.

Her leg needed to be rewrapped twice a day, and I couldn't help but wince at the memory of the raw look of her skin as I had readjusted the wood plates that morning. I tried to go as quickly and gently as possible, wrapping it as I tight as I dared once everything was back in place.

"The wooden splint might hurt as it presses against your leg, but it's the best way to reset a broken bone." I told her as I tied the bandage off. "But that's the worst of it, otherwise you are healing quite nicely. You'll be up and walking within another week." She smiled and reached out to take my hand before I could stand. Her palm was rough and dry against mine, a lifetime of hard labor in a single touch. I looked down at my own hands and felt ashamed. They were smooth, unblemished. I hadn't needed to work for anything for a long time.

"Thank you," she said, turning to include Carol, who was sitting behind my left shoulder, "you two saved my life. I don't believe I can ever thank you enough." Her words broke me out of my self-loathing and I stood, patting her uninjured leg in passing. Sechi repeated her sentiments from where he was sitting by the fire. He caught my wrist as I walked by, and I ruffled the boys' hair before giving him the basket of first aid supplies Carol and I had made and stepping around him, into their small kitchen. Sechi had offered to make dinner, and I couldn't help but smile at his feeble, but well-meant effort. Ladling it out into four deep narrow bowls, I hissed in pain as some spilled over and burned my left wrist.

"Of course, you and Sechi have been nothing but kind to us as well. Saving you was the right thing to do." Carol told her, taking my seat beside the bed. Her voice was full of conviction and assurance, her smile blinding in its intensity. I envied her positivity. "Look on the bright side," she added, "you're getting plenty of sleep."

Sephora had been free from work for two weeks now, and after having participated in what was considered ordinary labor for the slaves in this era I was grateful the general had been so kind. He had given us more than the necessary time for Sephora to heal enough to work again. He even went as far as to allow the rest of us time off to be with her.

"Sephora," Carol continued, clearly following the same train of thought I was, "what kind of person is General Minue?" I came back into the room at the question, precariously balancing the four bowls of soup. I handed them out, sitting down next to Sechi and poking at whatever was in my bowl. However petty it might have been to admit, I didn't take a sip of the broth until the others did, a bit worried over the slightly strange smell coming from whatever was inside. It still amazed me that even with the limited amount of resources available, he could still make something unrecognizable.

Sephora sighed at my sisters' curiosity, "He is a shadow behind the young Pharaoh, very protective of the boy. And as you saw before, he is a very kind man. It makes him a very popular general."

"Hmm, I've never considered the possibility of a kind-hearted general in a culture that takes an enormous amount of pride in killing people." It was said with total naivety, but despite the innocent undertone, the shock I felt at my younger sisters' statement was mirrored by our two hosts.

"Carol..." I warned weakly, "a little tact."

She blinked, and I decided the best course of action would be to change the topic as quickly as possible. "So, Sechi said he would be able to take Carol into Thebes today, for the ascension festival. Would it be all right if they went now? I don't want them getting caught out in the dark." Not waiting for Sephora to answer, I pulled Carol up by the arm, ignoring her indignant squeak. Sechi followed willingly enough, and after a stern warning for him to watch her very carefully - she had a tendency to wander - I shoved them both out the door with little fanfare. As the door closed, both Sephora and I couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief.

A few hours of peace were worth whatever mischief she was sure to get into. _I hoped._

 **xXx**

"The crowd is too thick; we'll never get through to the palace."

Sechi was concerned, they had been inside the capital for almost an hour, and Carols near obsessive need to find Isis had driven them closer to the palace than he had ever dared go before. The outer courtyard was filled with people; stalls had been set up along the sides for people to sell their wares, to sell food, and a troupe of dancers had congregated a big audience right in the middle. Even with the crowd, he noticed every soldier standing guard, the glint of their spears a _sharp_ reminder in the light of day.

Despite the tight quarters, his grip on the edge of her dress never faltered, and he continually found himself whispering to her that she needed to keep her head covered. While she had darkened her skin, her short blonde hair was completely unbound under the scarf she wore. She turned to face him at his admission, a stubborn frown etched into her face, "I have to see Isis today," she insisted, "no matter what."

The gate to the palace was finally within reach, and Carol had no plans on stopping now.

Her small stature was ideal for slipping in between the other spectators, and as she finally pushed through to the inner courtyard, she could just make out the shining glint of gold from the raised dais where Memphis must have been standing. She could see the general as well, his height a clear indicator and the only member of the group standing behind the pharaoh that she could put a name to.

A group of priests stood directly to his right, staying in the shade the walls provided, and that was there Carols gaze strayed every few seconds. Sephora had told her Isis was a priestess, hardly ever leaving the inner chambers of the palace temple. It she would be anywhere; it would be with them.

Desperately searching for the only face she really wanted to see, her gaze drifted back over to Memphis. He was saying his vows, swearing his right to unite upper and lower Egypt. As was the will of the gods. Etcetera. Etcetera. But what would usually fascinate her, now went completely over Carols' head. _Isis should be up there with him._ Her heart began to pound. Home felt so close, within shouting distance. _Just a bit more._

The speech finished, and as the crowd began to cheer another figure stepped up, stopping to stand beside Egypt's new Pharaoh.

"There," Carol breathed, almost reverently, "she's standing right beside him." Isis was almost unrecognizable from the last time Carol had seen her. Covered in fine fabrics and glittering with precious jewels, she looked every inch the queen she claimed to be. She watched as Isis reached out to brush her hand against her brothers' arm, and whatever words they exchanged were lost in the noise. They turned to walk back inside the palace, and Carol could see the golden doors closing on her only chance. _Their only chance._

Heat rose off the pale cobblestones like a mirage, and she pushed the cloth covering her forehead back as she tried to keep sweat out of eyes. She stretched an arm out above the heads of those around her, waving it to try and get the other girls' attention. "Isis, Isis wait!"

Sechi winced at her yell, "Carol, don't be so reckless! You're attracting the kind of attention we don't want..." He tried to pull her back, face paling as the people around them began to stare and whisper. But she just called out louder, increasing her struggles and breaking free form his hold.

The doors were closing, and with a final lunge the scarf hiding her hair fell back. Panicking, Sechi grabbed it before it could fall to the ground, shoving it almost completely over her head in an effort to cover her as quickly as possible.

"Your sister is going to kill me," he moaned, "Please, let's get out of here."

Carols muffled reply was heated, and he had to all but carry her to a less populated area away from the now empty platform. Sechi's fear of attracting attention was realized, and neither of the pair noticed the balding priest on the dais watching them walk off with greedy eyes. That same priest beckoned to a guard standing by the steps, his lips turned up in a sinister smile as they went around the corner.

Sechi pulled her into one of the many gardens that surrounded the palace. Carol ripped off the scarf as soon as she was able, readjusting it with a gasp, "Speaking of being reckless, someone might assume you just kidnapped me."

"Oh, be quiet," he snapped back, "we are going back home. How does your sister deal with you?"

Carol sniffed, "That was uncalled for. We aren't going anywhere until I talk to Isis. It's the only way I…Evie and I can go home."

Sechi gave a humorless laugh, "Good luck getting in to try, the entire palace is surrounded by General Minues' soldiers. You won't even get within ten feet." He pushed aside some of the tall plants hiding them, just enough show her the line of soldiers covering the entrances they could actually see.

"Every entrance." He clarified; just in case she wasn't getting the severity of the situation she was trying to put them _both_ in. Each one carried a spear and held a sword sheathed at their side. Shivering at the memory of her last experience being held immobile with said weapons, she pulled back, watching with dull eyes as one visiting dignitary after another was allowed inside. The door closed for the final time after a well-dressed woman entered, and the red gems in her coifed and curled hair seemed to glint mockingly under the glare of the sun.

A few minutes of defiant silence Carol and seemed to deflate, her shoulders sinking. "Alright," she sighed, "we'll go back."

 **xXx**

I greeted them upon their return with great relief. They had been gone for so long I had begun pacing, my nerves reaching a breaking point. After an hour of watching me, Sephora, who was still confined to her bed, had called it a night and settled in to rest. She claimed her feet hurt just watching me, and she couldn't even use them. But I wasn't going to rest until they were both back safe and sound. These trips to the home of a psycho who had actively tried to kill us were not what I called a must-see destination on the hellish vacation we seemed to be on. And although all my questions about the festival were met with short, tense answers, Sechi would still meet my eyes, so nothing too terrible could have happened.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, and the rest of us fell asleep with little problem. While my dreams swept through my mind's eye peacefully, Carol was not so lucky, and a sharp kick to my ribs knocked me out of the cot we shared and onto the dirt packed floor only a few hours later.

I groaned, pulling myself up to swipe at her blindly in the dark. I missed, which was disappointing. I could hear her crying, her breaths short and fast as she pressed her hands tightly to her face, "I could hear them, but I couldn't go back." She muttered it so lowly I almost couldn't hear her. Listening to her; I wasn't annoyed anymore. I had a pretty good idea about what her nightmare had been about.

"Hey, are you ok?"

She turned away from me to face the door, starting to panic. "I can't breathe."

I stood up straighter, scrambling over the cot and praying I wouldn't get tangled in the sheets. I didn't like the look on her face; it was the same look she always got right before she would run off. I'd seen it a thousand times, followed by her bedroom door slamming shut. I had just never been the person to deal with the aftermath. That was our mother or Ryan. Usually Ryan.

I was not prepared to deal with this.

"Don't you dare." I whispered venomously. "Don't. You. Dare."

But as usual, Carol didn't listen to me. With a final despairing shout of _'we're going to die here'_ she was off, out the door, running into the desert. I followed her, only half hoping she'd trip and fall. Maybe even twist her ankle so she couldn't run anymore, and I could actually catch her.

"Carol," I hissed, hot on her heels, "Carol, it's dark out here and everything wants to kill us. We've had enough of that already."

"Scorpions," I continued as I fell behind, out of breath. I shivered as a cool breeze blew by and stumbled twice in the loose sand. She was a dark silhouette under the dim light the stars provided, and I was pretty sure that at one point I mistook a cactus for her and ran in the wrong direction for at least a minute before realizing my mistake.

"Quicksand. You know I don't see well in the dark." I yelled.

"Wild dogs."

"Poisonous snakes." At this point we weren't in in the village anymore, instead nearing the Sphinx. It was at least a half hour walk away from Gosen, and I began to worry about finding our way back in the dark.

"Dehydration."

"Cold. It gets really cold out here at night Carol. You wouldn't think it, but it does."

She started to slow, but I could still hear her crying. It wasn't until she ran to the front of the massive monument and stopped that I put in an extra burst of speed, much more confidant now that I didn't have to tackle her to make her stop. Wear her out, always the best way to deal with her moods.

I reached out, finally able to garb a hold of her arm, "Thank god! You're not even wearing shoes." I had expected her to lash out; or do something else she normally did when she was in one of these states. But she was silent, even the tears had stopped. I stepped in front of her, brushing hair that had become loose from the run back over my ears and taking her shoulders, "You didn't really get stung by a scorpion, did you?"

I looked frantically down at our feet, taking a huge step back. It wasn't too late for me, I could still run and get help. But there was nothing there. She hit my arm, whispering my name and pointing shakily over my shoulder. I turned, saying almost sarcastically, "What is it now? A crocodile?"

Meant in jest, what I ended up facing was far more terrifying than a gigantic reptile. It was none other than the young Pharaoh himself, and he was looking straight at us.

"Huh," I said, "this is way worse than I thought it was going to be."

While we were all still in a state of shock, I motioned for Carol to move further back behind me, hoping she would get the hint and get out of here before this became a situation we couldn't get away from.

But all too soon his eyes narrowed and his mouth started working, "That hair... I've seen you before."

"Nope," I laughed nervously, and shoved my hair as far back it would go. I could only wince as Carols nails latched onto my arm, and once again curse the fact that she never listened to me. "you most definitely have not seen us before. We're just passing through. Got a little lost actually, are we anywhere near Karnack?"

I could see his confusion, "That's on the other side of the Nile." Back straightening slowly, his right hand moved to rest upon the hilt of the sword hanging by his side, "Who are you?" I laughed again, not wanting to answer. Luckily, I didn't have to. General Minue had stepped up from the shadows, and I noticed for the first time the two horses tied by the base of the statue.

My heart pounded. I knew he would know who we were, and when he met my eyes over the king's shoulder; it was with a look that might as well have condemned us.

"Your Majesty," he began, and I felt the weight of his gaze like chains, dragging me down. Or away. "your sister is waiting for us to return to the palace, she must be getting worried that we have been gone so long." Memphis turned to argue, and the second his attention was diverted, was the second Carol felt confident enough to finally speak up.

"Evie, I didn't think anyone would be here." Carol said by way of apology. Her feet shifted in the sand, the sound glaringly loud, and I worried for a moment it would draw their eyes back. And then I heard the same sound again, like she was hopping from foot to foot, desperate to get away.

 _I knew I was._

I shot a quick glance over my shoulder, hissing, "Well you were wrong. Now what are we going to do?" I could feel her breath against the back of my neck, rapid and panicked. Her grip shifted to my wrist, twisting it back towards her in a way that was almost painful.

"Run," she said instantly, "we should run."

"What?"

And before I could continue, before I could tell her that that was an absolutely terrible idea, she was already gone, sliding over sand again, and pulling me with her. I slipped three times before I was able to gain solid footing, knocking sand into my eyes as I fell and becoming entirely dependent on Carol to lead me. The young pharaoh called out for us to wait as we ran, and then commanded that we stop as we kept going.

I swore, reaching with one hand to rub the sand out of my eyes. "Where are we going?" But I was given no answer, just a murmured _faster_ and another sharp tug. Behind us, the yelling had stopped, and the silence was almost worse than if it had continued. _Why were we running?_ We were screwed either way. The general knew the village we were staying in, and he would tell his king. We were as good as caught the moment he had seen us.

Blinking, the desert night became clearer as tears finally washed the sand away, and the safety of our saviors' home was just a short jog away. We burst through the door just as the sun rose, startling Sechi.

"Where were both of you?" He asked, "Do you know how worried I was to wake up and find you not here?"

"Oh Sechi," Carol all but sobbed, "they couldn't see us well in the dark, but they saw us, the soldiers know were here now."

 **xXx**

We spent most of the early morning in tense silence. Carol had eventually convinced Sechi to go outside under the guise of pulling up water from the well in the center of the village. _To see what_ _was going on_ , she said _, as he was the only one who wouldn't draw a second glance and Sephora wasn't able to walk yet_.

It wasn't until half an hour after he had left that the people coming back into the village from the construction site began to get loud, so I moved to the window to try and catch a glimpse of what was happening. They had brought armed men back with them it seemed, and I pulled back to let the curtain fall. We had dimmed the lights, and the few candles we still had lit flickered, casting us all into shadow.

"There's a crowd gathered in the square." I said aloud as I went to sit down. Carol gave me a worried glance, and I watched as she refolded a dress for the fifth time from where she was helping Sephora do the laundry. You could have cut the tension around us with a knife and I just hoped this would play out in a way were knives weren't actually involved.

Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention; a flicker from underneath the door. I ran to it as Sechi came through, all but yanking him inside. He stumbled, tilting towards me and dropping his bag onto the floor. A bottle broke, and he groaned as water spilled over our feet. I paid it no mind. Wet feet were the least of our problems.

"You couldn't have taken any longer to come back?" Perhaps I was being a bit snippy, after all it wasn't just Carol and I in danger here. They had already risked so much to help us. But my nerves were raw.

"I was trying to act normal," he said, rolling his eyes. "The soldiers are searching the town looking for you two. Is everything ready?"

"Yes." Carol piped up, handing me a bundle of cloth. We were going to disguise ourselves, the same way we had the day Sephora was injured. Tying our hair up and coloring our skin seemed the only way we could sneak out of town unnoticed. We would head into Thebes to hide in the crowd until we figured out what else to do. Sechi assured me it was the best possible plan all things considered. The guards covering the city's walls were common soldiers. Not the army's elite like the ones at the palace. Easy to trick, easy to slip past.

We tried to get ready as quickly as possible, and I covered my face in arms with mud, grimacing at the gritty feeling. It would dry quickly once we were outside, and having it still be slightly fresh decreased the chance that it might flake off. Carol finished tying the scarf wrapped over my hair as I waited for my hands to dry a bit, setting another, longer cloth on top to hide my face.

I went to hug Sephora as soon as I was done, burying my face in her hair as I felt tears well up. She hugged back, her grip crushing.

"Thank you so much," I whispered after a moment, pulling back to look into her eyes, "I know we'll all see each other again." She sniffled at my words, wiping under my eyes so nothing smudged. Her smile trembled, and she moved her hand to hold my arm.

"Take Sechi with you, please, to help get you out of town unnoticed." By now Carol had come over, and shoving a bundle of food into my arms, took her turn saying goodbye. I was quick to agree with Sephora's suggestion; the soldiers were looking for two women, going in a group of three was a great way to remain undetected. I double checked my cover, checking over my skin as we all trudged reluctantly to the door. At one point Sechi nudged me in the back, telling me to rush Carol, who had come to a stop in front of me. She was staring down the street, watching figures move through the narrow dirt allies. We could hear the soldiers coming closer, the shouts as they searched through homes.

"Come on," Sechi urged, "we need to leave before they get here." He followed behind us, and as he closed the door, I couldn't help but look back. I had to bite my lower lip to keep it from trembling as the door closed on the only place that had offered us any kind of safety.

Outside the sunlight was blinding, and I clung tightly to Carols hand as we walked, going as slowly as we dared. People were crowding the streets, and I panicked thinking every corner we turned had a solider behind it, my pulse consistently frantic even as all my fears proved unfounded. As we neared the edge of the village, I let out a sigh of relief. _No one had seen us leave._

We quickly left Gosen behind, running as soon as we were out of sight towards the Nile. Carol and I were a few steps ahead, and the long grass we pushed through scratched at my arms and legs. Not for the first time, I cursed the fact we didn't have shoes. There were blisters forming and I slowed as one broke. Sechi continually checked behind us to see if we were being followed, and while he could see the final houses being searched, no one was looking in their direction. It was hot, and I pulled at my collar from where sweat was making it stick to my skin.

I worried over Sephora. The pharaohs soldiers were not known for being especially kind and being unable to leave her home was not ideal. I hoped they would leave her alone, that they would be so focused on finding Carol and I that when they saw we weren't there they would just keep looking. I wanted to send Sechi back, I asked him to, but he refused. _We were so close,_ he explained. _A couple more miles down the river, and we could slip into Thebes with the merchants arriving in the early morning._

Sechi would sneak back out with those leaving at the end of the day. He said it would be easy, promised it was a foolproof plan. But I had a feeling that things were going to be much more complicated.

Panting, he eventually pulled us to a stop, "We can rest here, just for moment." Carol all but collapsed at the news, and I bent over to rest my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.

"I hate running for my life." I gasped. "It really puts getting into shape into perspective." A breeze swept over us, bringing with it the smell of the Nile. I almost moaned at the thought of water. We had managed to go farther than I had anticipated, although which direction we were currently heading in completely escaped me. I shared my concerns, but Sechi waved me off, assuring me that he knew this area as well as anyone. He raised his head above the grass to look over the distance, shooting me a triumphant smile as he found what he was looking for.

"It's this way." He strode ahead, his stride confidant, to push a bundle of the grass aside. He motioned for us to go ahead, eyes on us and his smile smug. But instead of walking forward as he had expected, Carol and I took a huge step back, a matching set of horrified expressions etched onto our faces.

"Oh, that's creepy." I said softly, backing up even more as Sechi turned to stare. It was like horror movie. One in which the blondes die first. A small woman stood just beyond the plants he had pulled back, her eyes wide and flat, like a doll. And clutched in her hand was a sharp curved dagger. I shivered, "Bordering on terrifying."

Carol moaned, telling me to shut up as she pressed herself against my back.

Sechi was clearly confused, "Who _are_ you?" he asked, and I shivered as she ignored him. Her eyes were firmly locked on my sister and I. "Where did you come from?" he continued, actually sounding faintly impressed. He stretched, trying to see over the grass behind her; as if there might someone else with her. I hissed his name and motioned for him to move back and join us.

"Are you coming from the slave village?" The woman's' voice was like oil, slick and smooth and holding absolutely no emotion. As she moved closer Sechi finally listened to me and stepped away, blocking her view of us in a way I would have laughed and pinched his cheek for if the situation hadn't been so serious. "Are you two foreigners," She tilted her head, trying to catch my eye as I pulled the headscarf lower. "what are you hiding?" She had been steadily inching forward as she spoke. She hadn't blinked once.

Sechi noticed her move first. He shoved us hard, pushing us out of the way and towards the river. I hadn't looked at her; listening to her was bad enough. I lost my grip on the scarf hiding my face as I stumbled, and the wind grabbed it. It fell to the ground a few feet away. "Get out of here!" He called over his shoulder, and true to character; turned back to face the tiny psycho unarmed. _And the scarf is a lost cause._ I tossed a rock at his feet, hoping he would get the hint and knock her out from a safe distance.

"No mercy." I reminded him quickly. _No conscience either,_ I thought as I ran, _seeing as were both leaving him behind._

Carol was already a few feet ahead of me, shoving through the grass as fast as she could towards the river. Some of it swung back, and I cried out in shock as it raked across my face. It stung, and I brought both my hands up to rub at my cheeks, unaware that I was scraped away some of the mud I had used to color my face. We could see the sun glinting off the water, and the ground beneath our feet was slowly becoming less solid the closer we got to the water . The bottom of my dress was covered in mud, and the weight hindered my progress.

"Evie," Carol yelled, spinning to face me as I struggled, "hurry up."

I would look back on this moment later as very ironic; if Carol hadn't been looking back to yell at me, maybe she would have seen the horse.

But she didn't. As the horse reared back and turned, I caught a glimpse of the man sitting on it.

Memphis. _He was everywhere._ Our situation, of course, was only improved when the rest of the soldiers on horseback rode up behind him. Led by none other than General Minue. I would have cursed him if I had been able to catch my breath long enough to speak.

Carol skidded to a stop the second she saw them, and in my haste to get to her I fell into her back. I steadied myself, bracing my head against her shoulder. I kept my eyes down and my hands fisted in in her dress, bunching the fabric between her shoulder blades. I could feel her heart pounding, her panic as the king met her gaze with his own.

"You two, where are you going?" He spoke with casual arrogance, almost indifferent. He expected an answer, one he knew we would give. We had too. The dozens of armed men behind him demanded it. Carol stuttered for a moment, at a loss for words under the eyes of so many. I stepped up quickly, slipping her arm through mine and trying to act as casual as possible. My hands shook, and I clenched my fists to hide the tremble. My lips were dry and cracked. I licked them to ease the pain, and tasted blood. I briefly hoped it wasn't some sort of prediction of our future.

"Down to the river to fetch water." I told him once I had built up the courage, still holding my head down. "Has something happened?" My voice broke, and I squeezed my eyes shut at the sound, fighting tears. We were close to one of the well-used paths the natives of Gosen used daily to reach the Nile. The lie was believable enough. But I was depending heavily on the assumption the young king was ill-informed of the comings and goings of the people living nearby.

The general however, was very well informed, and I saw with growing trepidation as he turned his head at the sound of my voice, eyes narrowing in disbelief. Shrinking back farther, I prayed he wouldn't notice neither of us were carrying water pitchers. I prayed he was as ignorant as he seemed arrogant. He moved his horse to stand beside his kings and the dust kicked up by the horses' hooves blew towards us, following the winds current. It brushed past us and I sneezed, my head lifting with the force. It was so small, really, just an inch. But it was enough for Minue to see me, to see my face, my eyes. My fear.

"You there," Minue called out in surprise, and as Carol shifted away, I knew he was talking to me. "Lift your head."

I was wrong; he was not as ignorant as his liege. I paused, and my face was white under the mud. I could feel the blood drain away. That wasn't a request, it was an order. It only took a moment to decide I wasn't going to answer. I closed my eyes in defeat. We were as good as caught, might as well go down fighting. Right? I leaned forward to whisper into to Carols ear, telling her to run to the river.

She didn't need any encouragement, and I was only a few seconds behind her. _Crocodiles or spears? I'd take my chances with being eaten alive._

I heard the young pharaoh laugh behind us, the sound triumphant, and it made a cold stone of dread drop into my stomach. _He enjoyed the chase._ There was a certain amount of humiliation that came with being run down like an animal by someone on a horse. You knew it was only a matter of time before you were caught, you clearly couldn't outrun them, but you still had to try. Either way, the sense of absolute hopelessness I felt as an arm wrapped around my waist like an iron band to pull me onto the beast was crushing.

I didn't scream, what would have been the point? No one was around to save me. Carol had been caught just a few feet from the water's edge, and she was screaming loud enough for the both of us. She called out for our father, for Ryan, and then for Sechi when she realized they wouldn't be able to hear her. So, I didn't scream, I struggled. Twisting and turning, I raked my nails across the arm around me, drawing blood. At one point I was pretty sure I even tried to bite him.

That infuriating laugh. All I'd managed to do was turn myself around, and now I was stuck looking into my captors' smug face. His other hand came up to pull at the back of my head, ripping away the cloth I had used to cover it and tearing out hair in his brutality. It spilled down my back and wind blew it into my face. His smile was sharper now, a flash of teeth as a warning. My scalp burned. Retribution for my refusal. I simply scratched him again, delighting in the way his expression soured. My own smile grew at his displeasure, vicious and mean.

He tightened his arm, trapping both my own to stop my assault. I winced, almost able to hear the way my ribs creaked under the pressure. "Stop grinning," I spat at him, "if my arms were free, I'd be going for your eyes."

He slowed his horse, ignoring my threat. I leaned back as he looked at me, eyes sweeping over my form in a way that made me uncomfortable, eventually stopping just below my own. Focused on my face. "You missed a spot." he told me, swiping a finger against my cheek. It came away dusty.

I locked my eyes with his, saying slowly and with great pleasure, "No I didn't." Following my gaze, he looked down the same time I did. The look on his face as he saw his once pristine – and no doubt expensive – clothing covered in dirt was priceless. Now it was my turn to laugh, and I did despite the possibly cracked rib. It was almost worth it.

His lips curled, "An easy fix." And there was a glint in his eyes that killed whatever feeling of victory I might have had for that short wonderful moment. His arm loosened, "Yours will be a bit more difficult. But I believe I know a way to help you get cleaned up."

"What?"

He threw me off his horse. I hit the water with a splash, pulling water into my lungs reflexively as I went under. I panicked, unable to catch my breath, and the rocks lining the rivers shallow edge cut into my palms as I pushed myself up into a sitting position. I gasped, coughing up water as I moved my now soaking hair out of my face. I would have yelled, but Memphis had followed after me, and I shrank back as his figure loomed over me.

 _Perhaps it hadn't been such a great idea to taunt him._

He caught me by the arm as I tried to move away, dragging me farther into the Nile. The current moved faster here; the kind of current that could sweep you off your feet and take you under if you weren't careful. Less willing to fight against him now, I was instead clinging to his arm. I was half expecting him to drop me and leave me to drown. The idea itself wasn't that far off.

Where his steps were confidant and measured, mine were unsteady against the slippery riverbed. Without warning he pushed me under, holding me there as I lashed out. The people waiting on the banks yelled out in surprise, but their voices were muffled and hard to hear submerged as I was. Carols indignation and the generals' warnings over my possible demise where the loudest and easiest to understand. I found little comfort however.

Twice he lifted me from the water, just long enough for me to catch my breath before shoving me back again. It was surprisingly cold. I opened my eyes to murky water. His legs were beside me, and I made a last-ditch effort to knock them out from under him. Anything to loosen his grip. The angle was awkward however, and I missed. Before I could collect my bearings enough to try once more, he moved to lift me from the water for what I hoped was for the last time.

I gasped for air and wondered absently whether or not he knew what I had been trying to do. He held me limp above the water, finally letting me breath for longer than a minute. My head spun. _Did that really just happen?_

"That's better isn't it?" He asked me. He brushed a strand of hair out of my face, a surprisingly gentle gesture against the backdrop of his _clear instability_. It honestly freaked me out more than the attempted drowning.

"Oh, sweet Jesus," I whispered faintly, "you're crazy."

I remained unmoving as he trudged us back to dry land, forcing him to carry my dead weight. I was going into this unwillingly and I wanted him to know. He did so without complaint, and I caught Carols horrified gaze as he walked past her. "Inbreeding." I told her softly, still in shock. I didn't miss the confused looks I got from the soldiers around her and the slightly incensed look from the general. But I didn't care. She nodded mutely from where she was still being held by General Minue, and her tears had left pale streaks down her still dirty cheeks.

Seeing as we were both soaking wet, Memphis lifted me to sit in front of him on his horse with little concern, settling behind me and once again trapping me in his arms as he took the reins. I frowned tiredly, I was getting really sick of finding myself in this situation.

I shivered, feeling miserable as he turned us around. He turned to the soldiers, meeting Minue's eyes over Carols bowed head.

"We'll take them back to the palace. Isis will want to see this." The soldiers obeyed without question, barely sparing my sister and I a glance as they cleared a path for us to follow back to the main road. A chill raced down my spine at as he mentioned Isis, the memory of her soulless eyes on mine as she shoved me off a cliff was still at the forefront of my mind. It had been traumatizing. And when faced with such things I had a tendency to be violent. I couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't try to stab her.

"You can't just take us with you. That's kidnapping." Carol had finally found the courage to speak, and although her voice was shaky and low, I was relieved she was saying anything at all. Especially because I wasn't going too.

Memphis laughed. "Of course, I can take you," he said it softly, as if he were speaking to a small child. "You're a slave. You already belong to me." His tone was definitive, effectively ending the conversation.

But that didn't matter. Neither of us had anything to say to that.


	10. Chapter 8

He dropped me at her feet.

The entire hall had gone silent as Memphis pushed the doors open; a hundred people turning to witness my humiliation. I hit the stone floor hard, bruising my knees and scraping my palms as I tried to keep from knocking my face into the ground. My blood was a stain against the stone floor and I hissed as sand ground into the raw scratches. I lay there for a moment, dazed – and in all honesty – a little afraid to face what I knew was waiting. The weight of the collective stares was crippling, and it was a cowardly thing that I did not look up. But I didn't care. The others had filed in behind me, a line of soldiers blocking the exit and trapping us in here. Fantastic.

Isis had moved to stand from her throne as we entered, her expectant smile fading as I was pulled in by her brother. There was a heavy pause and I could feel her disbelief and her anger as she towered over me.

"What is this?" she asked slowly, and I didn't miss the dangerous note in her voice. Her question was repeated throughout the room, and I watched with bated breath as a richly dressed woman pushed herself through the crowd to stand beside my captor; eyes only for him. She brushed her hand against his arm, oblivious to his empty smile and his sisters' murderous glare as she whispered into his ear.

 _Gag._

Carol, who was still being held by the general, practically threw herself forward the moment she saw Isis. But it wasn't with the previous hero worship that I had seen before, now it was disbelief and a little bit of anger. We were finally on the same page.

"Isis!" she called, breaking me out of my prideful moment. "Isis, it's me, Carol!" She struggled, eventually pulling free from Minue's grip and running forward to grab onto the other girl's dress, oblivious to the way she stiffened under her touch. "Why did you do this? Send us back!" Her voice bordered on hysterical and the mud that still coated her hands broke off in flakes to land at their feet. The people around us gasped at the bold move and I winced, lifting my head to stare with wide eyes.

Memphis laughed scornfully from behind me and took a few steps forward, "Do you know this girl?" I shivered as his cloak brushed against my arm and tried to disappear into the floor. I didn't want his attention to be redirected. I was perfectly fine being invisible. I could do nothing but watch with everyone else as this played out.

Isis had gone still at the question, a horrified look crossing her face as she turned to look at her brother. "No!" she cried, sounding panicked, "No, I don't know her!" Everyone was staring. A dirty slave girl hanging off a queen. It was almost too much to bear. Her hand shot out with a surprising amount of force to land a vicious blow to Carol's cheek. "How dare you speak to me! How dare you say my name!" The venom in her gaze intensified, a cruel smile stretching her face into something sinister.

Carols head whipped to the side with the blow and she fell, eyes wide and unbelieving. She hit the floor next to me, and it only took a moment for her to turn her wounded eyes in my direction.

"Holy shit," I whispered. "I can see the outline of her hand against your face." It had split Carol's lip, and a drop of dark red blood dripped down her chin. I expected her to stay down, possibly cradle her face and cry as we were eventually led away. But I was wrong, my sister was up in a flash, once again reaching out.

"I know this isn't who you are Isis. You're still the girl I know, the girl I wanted to be a part of my family. Don't you remember?" There was a type of desperation in her voice, a slowly dying seed of hope. But Isis's eyes were cold and dead; no remorse for what she was going to do to us, and I saw the light in Carol's eyes fade as she realized – truly realized – that we weren't getting out of this one. Isis wasn't going to send us home.

I pitied her the loss of her naivety.

"I don't know you," Isis repeated, slow and clear. Her voice shook, and she turned away, "you're a disgrace." She waved her hands, calling forward the guards that had previously been standing in the shadows. They stepped towards my sister and me; all hard eyes and sharp edges. "Take them to the dungeon."

I was hauled inelegantly to my feet, and I all but growled at the man holding me. After all, his grip on my arm was hard enough to bruise. The metal of the bracelets he wore on his arm pressed against my skin, and despite the heat in the room, it was so cold it burned. If he saw my fear he was not moved, and in my disbelief, I imagined that my gaze would burn him if I glared hard enough. But it didn't work. He didn't let go.

We had moved only a few feet when Memphis stepped up to halt our progress, "I want them serving at the banquet tonight." He snapped his fingers, and an older woman came forward immediately, bowing at the waist. I could hear the air as it rushed out of Isis's lungs, her previously superior attitude wilting under her brothers' complete dismissal of her authority. I almost felt bad for her. But then I remembered she was bat-shit crazy and got over it.

The older woman moved towards us at her kings' command, gently taking my arm from my handler. She smiled at us, but what was meant to reassure just left me more unsettled than ever.

"Get them ready." He continued absently, and with one last amused glance in our direction, he disappeared into the crowd.

 **xXx**

They had split us up. Pulled into separate rooms and dressed us up like dolls. There were no mirrors, but as I looked down to the thin linen dress they had put me in, at the gold bangles on my wrists, felt the weight of the heavy beaded necklace wrapped around my throat, I thought that it should have been beautiful. But I didn't feel beautiful, I felt cheap. The dress was sheer and hid nothing, and the bracelets and collar were chains, albeit very pretty ones. I tilted a wrist as they twisted my hair up into some intricate style – to admire the gold I'd said, when they told me not to move.

There, around the edge of every band, was that stupid man's name.

But that was the point, wasn't it? I wasn't a person, I was property. Every aspect of my appearance was tailored to prove it. I didn't even want to know what they had done to my face.

"You'll be serving drinks with the other girls," the same woman Memphis had called forward in the hall stood behind me now, nodding her head at the finished product and waving the girls who had dressed me out of the room. "And later this evening during the feast, the king has requested your presence."

She tugged at the fabric around my waist, lifting her dark eyes to meet my own. Her voice had gone quiet towards the end, full of reverence, and I shuddered to think anyone could find being around that pompous man appealing. If she noticed my lack of enthusiasm, it did not deter her. She led me into the hallway, continuing to prattle on about tonight's prestigious event. The men standing on either side of the door to the room I had just been in moved to follow us, keeping a few paces behind. I had a feeling they weren't there to keep me safe, but for another reason entirely.

There were guards stationed throughout the palace, as still as statues, and I felt their gazes on my back like a brand. It was a feeling I was sure I would never get used too. Being so agitated, the trip back to the main hall felt like hours where it had only been minutes before, and I was halfway through wondering how far I would get if I were to just run through one of the open airy corridors and into the desert when we stopped. I eyed the spears the men behind us were carrying. _Probably not very far._

"Well," she sighed, "here we are." We had come to a servant's entrance. The door was plain, almost completely without decoration, and narrow. I eyed it skeptically. There was no way I'd fit while holding anything. Just passing through would have required me to turn sideways. Or so I thought. The woman, tired of my reluctance, put her hands against my back to push me through. Caught off guard, I tripped into what I assumed to be the kitchen. It was sweltering, and my eyes widened. A rush of pure excitement filled me, and I forgot for a moment just exactly where I was. People brushed by me without a care; everyone was busy enough that my entrance went almost wholly unnoticed.

I tried to turn around, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous. But the door was already closing, dark eyes pinning me in place along with her final warning, "Do not keep him waiting." She paused, her eyes sweeping down my figure in a way that was decidedly uncomfortable, "And remember to smile."

 _As if._

I felt so completely defeated as the door shut completely, the lock clicking into place. And I didn't know if it was fortunate or not that I didn't get much time to dwell. A large rough hand latched onto my upper arm, and I spun around to face a tall stocky woman, her expression nothing short of relieved. She wiped the sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her dress, but the heat of the room was so great it made no difference.

"You're finally here!" she all but cried, and I resisted the urge to place my hand over her own at her haggard exclamation. "The others have already been sent out, you'll have to work quickly to catch up. You and that other one."

Opening my mouth, I meant to ask if she was speaking about Carol, but I stumbled, and my face flushed red as I ran into someone, stuttering my apologies. My apology went unnoticed, and as she wove us around a large table, I paused to marvel at the sheer amount of food they had managed to fit atop it. It looked ready to bend under the pressure.

"I run the kitchen, so you'll be under my thumb for the foreseeable future. You'll be here every morning, before dawn, and we'll see if we can't make you useful."

We had reached the end of the hall, and there was a stream of pretty girls in pretty dresses flowing in and out.

"Take the wine out first, they'll be wanting refreshments after the show they've just had." A dark look crossed my keepers' features, and it took only a few seconds to figure out what she was talking about. My cheeks darkened, and my gaze found the floor. It was silent for a moment before she sighed, "Be grateful you were sent here, there are worse things than serving drinks."

The tray she pushed into my hands a moment later was heavy, made of a dark polished metal. The gilded chalices that were placed on top were even heavier. My arms trembled under the strain and I cursed, watching as a few drops spilled over the side.

"Keep it steady," she warned me, "gods help you if you happen to spill."

She waved me forward, urging me to step into the line heading out the doors. I paused, and she rolled her eyes at my panicked expression. A sharp push was enough to get me going, and as I moved through the open entryway and into the corridor, I prayed no one could see me shaking. Unsure of what to do, I milled about the edges of the huge crowd of people, not yet willing to risk pushing my way inside. That didn't last long, and soon I was standing shoulder to shoulder with what I could only assume to be Egypt's elite.

Every once in a while, someone would walk past and take a cup, leaving the empty one they previously held as a replacement. It was torture. I smiled and kept my eyes down, going back into the kitchen every time my tray was emptied only to come back out again with more. I waded through a sea of glittering bodies. I listened to their laughter, followed their shining rings as they called me over.

It should have been wonderful. I should have been in awe. This was an event I had only ever dreamed of before. There were dignitaries from all over, and I overheard dead languages that were no longer dead. A moment in history I had only ever guessed at. Really, I should have been thrilled.

But halfway through the night I was once again approached by the general. Taking the tray from me, he passed it off to another servant as they ran by, and I felt surprisingly vulnerable without it, as though I had lost a shield between he and I. He smiled and took my hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm once he noticed my unease.

"You look lovely. It's nice to see you without all the mud." He told me genuinely, and I shifted nervously at his compliment. I didn't know how to approach him now that we were no longer hostile. But his grip was gentle, and his eyes were kind. So, I let him lead me through the crowd. Not that I really had a choice. "The king is asking for you."

I had been expecting that, dreading it the entire night. I wasn't surprised, but I felt my face twist into something ugly at his words. I turned it down, not wanting anyone to see what I thought of their beloved leader. My dislike was dangerous. Minue prattled on. Inconsequential things that went in one ear and out the other. Questions about how I was doing, what I thought about the palace, had I been shown my room. He never asked the questions that were hanging so heavily over both our heads. The ones he really wanted to ask.

 _Have you accepted what you are now? A servant. A slave. Are you going to try to run?_

As we approached what I assumed was my final destination, panic began to set in. I didn't want to see him, to see Isis and face all of their glittering glory. I slowed, my heels digging into the floor. This was a nightmare. Minue looked down at me, and I couldn't tell if it was pity or exasperation in his gaze. He led me around a lowered dancefloor and for a second I marveled at the musicians, turning to ask what they were playing. Honestly, I was trying to put this off as long as possible.

 _Remember to smile._

I could see Carol now, holding a pitcher by Memphis side and looking miserable as a balding, older man leaned over to touch her hair. She caught sight of me before anyone else did and the wide-eyed look of relief she sent in my direction didn't go unnoticed. The king looked up a second later.

"Finally!" He stood, and thanking the general he took my arm, pulling me rather forcefully to sit beside him. In between him and his sister. I wasn't brave enough to turn around and face her.

"A definite improvement," he continued, "you actually look human." He held out his chalice, snapping his fingers, and Carol moved over to fill it, her hands shaking. "I'm glad you're finally here. I have a gift for you and your sister. One I think you'll enjoy." Wrapping an arm around my shoulders he motioned vaguely to the palace grounds. "We found a friend of yours trying to sneak inside, a boy who says he knows you. Sechi, I think he said his name was." My shoulders tensed, and his lips spread into a mocking smile at the look on my face. I turned away, not wanting to look at him, not wanting to see his delight at my pain. "Do you want to see him? He's downstairs, behind bars, with nothing else to do besides wait."

Carol made a sound as if she were holding back a sob, and I sat there in stony silence, holding back tears as he placed two fingers underneath my chin, turning my face back towards him. He sighed and reached out to brush his hand against the side of my cheek with a level of familiarity that made me uncomfortable.

"So determined, so loyal." He murmured. "So devoted. He seems to care for you both a great deal. I'm sure the feelings are mutual, and how terrible would it be if something were to happen to him because of his love for you. His fate is yours to decide." He leaned back to grin charmingly; like he hadn't just used someone else's wellbeing to keep us in line. I wanted to cry. He really was a pretty thing with his sharp features: all dark hair and eyes with a sinful smile, and in the dim light as he looked at me I thought he was beautiful, even as he threatened us.

 _I hated it. I hated him._

My heart was beating loud enough I worried everyone could hear it, the blood rushing straight to my head. He had thrown his arm across my shoulders again with careless abandon and leaned over me to speak with the man standing beside Carol. I watched with disdain as the same man reached out to touch her hair with a disturbing look in his eyes. They laughed and smiled and drank, eventually gaining the attention of the room for a big announcement I didn't take the time to listen too. I just wanted this to be over.


	11. Chapter 9

A/N- I've gotten a couple reviews asking me if we're ever going to Evelyn develop as a character. Shout out to BloodOrange-Seashell and DeathlyIceMaiden for asking all the right things. It's a great question, and the answer: YES.

Just give me time.

One of my reasons for writing this was that I had so many issues with Carol as a character. She's selfish and entitled, doesn't know when to shut her mouth, makes terrible decisions, lacks any form of common sense and is weak-willed. Sorry to those of you who actually like her.

Her flaws, which we see Evie tolerate, are a constant irritant as I go over the manga as I'm writing. Now because Evie and Carol have only really been trapped in the past for about a day, all these flaws, which were in their own time, only slightly irritating, are now potentially life-threatening. Evie is going to get fed up real quick, and Carol will, as time goes on become a less important character as relationships develop for Evie.

It's easy to be shallow and rude an act without thinking when you have rights to protect you and an influential family with lots of money to back you up. It's a completely different thing to be all these things when they can get you killed. So, while you may roll your eyes now over the fact Evie is a total pushover when it comes to her sister, just remember that when push comes to shove; Evie is going to push a lot harder than Carol.

Hope this clears thing up enough that you will wait with eager anticipation for Evie to step up to the plate, and for Carol to stop being such a whiny brat.

Isis had never been so happy.

Despite the fact that her brother had pulled that little bitch to sit between them during the feast. Despite the fact he had the other one at his beck and call, serving him drinks. Despite the fact that when Evelyn had entered the room and he had looked at her; in all of her glittering gold and blue-eyed glory that he hadn't looked away. He had looked at her like she was precious, something worth keeping. It made her blood burn even to think of it now.

But no.

That didn't matter, because even as he leaned in to touch the other girls' hair and whisper into her ear, Isis knew he didn't mean it. She saw it in the way Evelyn's shoulders tensed at his words, the way Carol choked on her tears. He wanted to hurt them too. Perhaps not as much as she did, but that was fine. They weren't important, they weren't even people. So as Memphis had all but pulled that insipid creature into his lap she had been the dutiful sister. Entertained the nobility and smiled. Then Kapta stood, and in a grand gesture that only their head priest could pull off, had gathered the attention of the entire room for an announcement. One that she'd been waiting her entire life for.

So, when the priest said the pharaoh was to be married, and that there was no better choice than her; sister to the king, she had practically glowed at the news. Who better to keep their bloodline pure, their reign absolute, their people united? Isis had kissed him in her joy, ignoring the repulsed looks of his newest acquisitions, reveling in the tears of the ridiculous princess that had been sent here to woo him and delighting over the fact that things were finally going according to plan.

There was so much to be done, so much to be planned and Isis was viciously going to enjoy every minute of it. Just one month, and she could have everything she ever wanted.

It was almost too good to be true.

She had left the hall, wanting to begin the preparations as soon as possible, completely unaware of a pair of sad dark eyes watching her leave.

The general sighed, melancholy, as she had walked away. The weight of his mothers' arm against his was of little comfort; there was no cure for unrequited love. He would suffer in silence.

Even if Isis had known the extent of the generals' feelings, she wouldn't have cared. There was only one man she had ever thought of wanting, and he would be hers. Even when Carol ran up to her in the hall, once again begging to home. To get her life back. But Isis just laughed, telling her that as much as she would have loved to have sent her home in that moment, there was no power in this time that could.

"The clay board," she said, grinning as Carol began to tremble, "was the only thing that could take you back, and we both left it behind."

Isis was still laughing about the heartbroken look on the girls face hours later, after night had fallen and the palace was asleep. She was laughing as a servant led the same Hittite princess that had wept at the thought of Isis's engagement into her temple. Deep underground, where no one would hear her scream. And when iron bars closed around the girl and the princess screamed, Isis smiled like a cat that caught the canary. Everything was going according to plan. Everything. She moved to look through the bars, whispering, and when she pulled back and turned to leave the other girl could only sob harder.

"You won't take him from me."

xXx

It was cold tonight, unnaturally cold, even for a desert night by the Nile and I shivered under the rough spun blanket I had pulled over myself to hide my face. I cursed Carol in my silent misery, watching her ahead of me – another covered shadowed – and wishing that had she hadn't slipped into my room earlier that evening to whisper half thought out rescue plans into my dreams. It'll be easy she said, no one guards the entrance to the dungeons. The king's arrogance was so great that the idea that someone might escape had never crossed his mind. Nor, apparently, was anyone going in of their own free will.

She had shoved a bundled wad of food and bandages into my arms, and I clutched it to my chest now, praying I wouldn't drop anything as we left the shadowed palace halls for a moonlit courtyard.

"Over there," I whispered, pointing needlessly to a section of wall that was darker than the area around it. A set of stairs, thin and steep with not an ounce of light until you got to the bottom, where there was a dim red glow. I approached gingerly, staring down into the abyss, "the literal entrance to hell."

Carol tossed me an annoyed look and tightened the ragged blanket around her shoulders unconsciously at my words. Any other time and I would have laughed at how easily I had spooked her, but now I was just as scared, just as nervous. Carol went first, down the steps, and I paused at the top. They were worn down from use and age, crumbling in some areas. It was most likely kept this way to make the whole thing more intimidating for prisoners, and it was working.

I didn't want to go. The idea of stale closed air, of painted eyes watching me as I moved; it made my lungs close up. But Sechi was my friend and there were no doubts in my mind of the brutality he was most likely suffering. The ground seemed to sway under my feet and my legs trembled, but I took a step forward and then down, and then I kept going until the darkness had swallowed me whole and I couldn't see anything but the dim red glow of torches.

The shine of Carol's hair was a beacon, and I followed it to a small dingy cell with no windows or light or air. She was leaning forward, and a pale arm was stretched between the bars to rest in her lap. The sound of her hushed panic and the sight of blood dripping onto her dress was enough to push away the last lingering bits of my fear. I rushed towards her, and my gasp was half anguish and half anger.

"Look at what they've done to you!" Sechi lay on his stomach, head tilted towards us. There was so much red. Jagged lines were clawed down his back, thick and raw towards the center before thinning out. Every breath he took seemed to agitate the wounds, and I winced in sympathy as a fresh trickle of blood ran down his torn skin to pool in a puddle by his side. The wound hadn't been properly cleaned, and I was suddenly glad for the low light. I thought I could see bone. I pulled my bundle open, handing a flask of water off to Carol as I put my own hands into his cage to press a wet cloth to the least torn section of skin I could find.

He'd been whipped, the ends tipped with metal barbs. There were cut upon cuts. The wounds would heal slow if they healed at all. I eyed the marks with a sense of morbid fascination and could feel my own backache in sympathy.

His grin at the sight of us hadn't been what I'd expected. He tried to sit up, and his hand brushed against mine as I took the blanket off my back, and then my sisters. I handed them to him with the bundle of food we had gathered. The bandages I kept, and I chocked on my pain as he and Carol continued to talk though the bars. I tried, I tried to clean him up the best I could, but what we had taken…we hadn't been prepared for this. He grunted as I urged him to tilt onto his side to wrap bandages around him, and I absently murmured my apologies.

My hands shook, and I pulled away with my fingers covered in blood.

xXx

I was awake early the next morning, once again in the kitchen under the watchful eye of the cook. She'd greeted me with a warm glint in her eyes and an apron to pull over my dress. She pulled me inside, and finally having the time, gave me a tour of the space I was to be working in for the foreseeable future. I admired her workspace in a way I hadn't been able to the night before.

It was large, narrow, with distinct separations between the three stations I could see. Tables were lined up before each, empty now where they had been full before, and the floor was worn smooth where servants carried the trays into the banquet hall. We moved past where the beer was brewed, large vats that stood at half my height, and for a moment I thought she would take me to the end of the hall, where I could see the half-butchered carcass of a cow. Even the vents they had hanging above the area was not enough to air out the smell and I shuddered at the thought that I might be placed there. But she didn't stop there, instead, we stopped in front of the baking ovens, the heat of which was scorching, even through my thin dress.

"Here we are." Her hands were large, rough and covered with small burns and scars and I stumbled under the weight of just one as she patted me on the back after reaching my station. A small wooden table with a trough on top that was split into two compartments and a large grindstone set between them.

"You'll be helping prepare the flour today. Sit here, and when you get a new batch of grain," she set a half-full bag down beside me, "pour it through the top, spin the stone to turn it fine and repeat as necessary. It's tiresome work, but I suppose that's why we're the ones doing it." I picked up a handful as she turned to leave, noting the rough texture. She must have seen my face, because she laughed, "It's not very refined, but it's the best we can do."

She left me after that, and I sat for a moment, remembering with distaste the stories of "stony" bread I'd heard while in school. The sieves here were made from rushes, with large gaps between them. I looked around, but the girls beside me were working with a single-minded type of determinedness. Tearing the edge of my apron was easy, and the rough spun cloth was perfect. I set it over the original sieve, pining it in place the best I could.

The grain I pushed out was still imperfect, but running it through the mill several times turned out a product that was better than expected. No obvious stones, and I supposed that was what counted. Once finished it was taken from me, a new bag given, and I watched with interest as it was poured into a bowl along with water then leaven and kneaded. There was a set of tall thin molds beside the biggest oven. The dough was placed in each one, and as I would learn later, would be left to rise in the heat before being baked. It was a tiresome process, but it yielded impressive results. Several loaves could be baked at once in each once closed, and judging by the tired, haggard look of most of the women working had, I would have said they were kept lit and working at all hours of the day.

The girl beside me suddenly called out, shaking me from my ramblings, and reaching over to grab a bag I had finished, sifted her hand through it with obvious delight. "How'd you do that?" Her eyes were wide, outlined in smudged kohl and a deep warm brown that sparkled as she looked at me. Wordlessly I showed her my makeshift refiner, and after a short look, she wasted no time in tearing her own apron, dumping her own finished bag back into the top of her mill.

"What are you doing?" I gasped at her carelessness, "All your hard work, you'll have to start over." But she only waved my concerns away.

"Oh please, once Henuttawy sees this, she'll be so thrilled she might even let us go early."

"Henuta…what?"

"The head cook," she gave me a strange look, her eyes taking in my appearance for the first time. Her eyes widened, but to her credit, she didn't say anything. Her face lit up with a smile, mischievous like she remembered something she had previously forgotten. "My name's Kesi, by the way."

I grinned back, "Evelyn, but my friends call me Evie."

"I know who you are, the pharaoh brought you and your sister here the other day." She leaned closer, her voice dropping as though she was telling me a secret. "You're notorious amongst the…servants here." Her shoulder lifted in a shrug, "But I pity you, it's never a good idea to draw his eye."

She didn't elaborate and I wanted to ask her why. I wanted to know more about the man that had brought us here. I wanted her to tell me what our lives were going to be like now instead of looking at my future like it was a blank blood-stained page. But before I could she shushed me, shoving me back into my own seat from where I'd been inching towards her, "She's coming back this way. Look busy or she'll yell at us, and we'll never get the afternoon free."

Several hours of this found me with burning muscles and sweat trickling down the back of my neck with no way to relieve the discomfort. At some point in time, I had smeared flour on my cheek, and my hair had come undone from where Carol had pinned it up for me. I had been left with a disturbing sense of normality for most of the morning, but tension was thick in the air. Something was going to break.

My hands were shaking, rubbed raw from the wooden handle that turned over and over in my hands, the ragged edge of my apron stained red from where I had tried to dry them. I almost didn't notice. I'd seen so much of it since coming here. I would probably see more of before we ever got the chance to go home.

 _If we went home._

I sighed, leaning back to stretch until the bones in my back popped before settling against the warm stone behind me. The jug of water I had been given had long since gone dry; my skin certainly felt dry. Stretched. Thin. And it had only been a day. That resigned hopeless expression most of the servants here wore was starting to become a lot more understandable.

And then the steady flow of the day broke and there was news of Isis traveling to Karnack in preparation for her wedding. Memphis would be heading back to the construction site where I had first seen him after being sent here, and could I please be a dear and pack him a lunch. I had to resist spitting into his food. When I was finished Henuttawy came to expect my work, but there was no mention of praise or an afternoon free. She simply swept her eyes over my disheveled form, gaze lingering over my bloodied hands, and pointing towards the door.

"Go get dressed, bandage your hands. Be back here as soon as you can, pharaoh wants you with on his trip to his construction site." She didn't say anything else as she pushed me out into the hall. I caught Kesi's eye as I left; her eyes were wide and excited. She hadn't seen my fear, my resignation. _Tell me everything,_ she mouthed to me. I didn't think she really wanted to know.

Her wink was the last I saw of her.

xXx

This part of the desert was as hot as I remembered.

Hot. Dusty. Depressing.

Beautiful. The analytical side of me, the archeologist side, was amazed. Mystified. Historians and professors alike could only guess at the exact methods used to construct the marvels the Egyptian empire produced. But my more emotional side noticed the pain, the whip marks and scars that covered tanned skin like macabre tattoos. But this wasn't the same, these people weren't Sephora and I couldn't help them the way we I helped her. So, I pushed that emotional side of me away, into the back of my mind. I could torture myself with how unfair the world was later. I turned my gaze away from the people and back to the stone.

The only difference this time around was that instead of being on the ground with the other workers I was in a shaded pavilion that stood between the legs of the Sphinx overlooking the entire site, staring at detailed construction plans and watching Memphis yell out orders from where he was draped over a chair. I'd spread out the meal I had made earlier, and was standing to his left, holding a pitcher of wine, filling his cup whenever he held it out to me.

We hadn't spoken much as we traveled, but I had never pegged him for a stunning conversationalist anyway. Silence was golden after all. And that was exactly what I was supposed to be. Silent. I doubted any of the oh-so-prestigious men I was surrounded by even knew I could even read or speak or think. Ugh, misogyny gave me a headache.

I had been staring into the distance for the better part of half an hour - looking for the outline of Gosen where I had seen it last - when I noticed it. Dust on the horizon. Memphis looked relaxed, unconcerned, and I thought that perhaps he hadn't seen it. I hesitated, unsure of how to address him, and settled for clearing my throat and brushing my hand lightly across his shoulder.

"Your Majesty," said softly it seemed the safest option and when he turned to look at me with scorn in his eyes, I pointed to the figures that were steadily growing larger as they headed in our direction. He stood once he saw them, his contempt for me soon forgotten – and the general was a few seconds behind him as he headed to the foot of the pavilion to greet them on the ground.

At least I hoped he was greeting them. Curious, I moved closer. The clothes the three strangers wore were long, and appeared heavy, made with a brighter color fabric than the cool linens of Egypt. One man stepped forward, above the others and his face was drawn and serious. Setting down the pitcher to place my hands on the railing, I hid in the shade.

 _Ambassadors from Hittite._

"-een too long. The princess wrote us a month ago saying she was returning home within a fortnight, and she has not." The man's accent was thick, strange. He gazed at the pharaoh with clear distaste. A small piece of parchment exchanged hands. The general took it gingerly, telling them in uncertain tones that the princess and all her servants had vacated the palace the night the pharaohs engagement had been announced. Gone without a trace. It had been assumed she had returned home during the night, not wanting to face the shame of her failure to seduce Memphis. "Our king worries over his only daughter. For the sake of continued peace between us, he asks that you investigate further in your own kingdom."

The two behind the man speaking began to shift, looking impatient the longer the conversation continued. They were twitchy, eyes darting between the armed guards stationed around us and the small woven baskets each one was holding. When they started to turn away, returning to the horses I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding.

That same serious man stopped again, "He was most displeased that you did not see the wisdom of a more permanent alliance. The princess was greatly saddened by the rejection. I can only wish you happiness in your new marriage."

His parting words felt insincere and forced. A shiver moved down my spine despite the day's heat, my eyes were automatically drawn to Memphis, who was watching them leave. After a while he turned, meeting my worried stare with his. He waved me down, and I followed without protest. It would be the first time I would admit to the palaces excess of guards as making me feel safe.

Those men had left, taking their thinly veiled threats with them, but that didn't make me feel any better, because I couldn't help but notice, as I stepped from hard stone to soft sand, the small baskets they had been carrying lying broken and forgotten on the ground, half buried, like someone had tried to hide them.

Memphis pulled me onto his horse behind him, the rest of his guard rushing to follow his example.

But of course, they never made it that far.

The trip back to the palace felt like hours, but we had ridden the horses to near exhaustion. By the time we had reached the gates there was a mob of painted officials and servants alike racing towards us. I'd ridden the pharaohs horse here alone, he had been pulled from it the moment he'd been bitten; the snake stabbed and his guards in a frenzy. Two of them had been bitten as well, unnamed soldiers left to die in the desert. Dead weight when compared to a king.

Everyone was in an uproar. I had been shoved to the side as he was taken away, eventually sent to fetch water and rags as his condition worsened throughout the day. I caught sight of Carol during the chaos, white-faced and silent among the other workers. But I wasn't given the chance to stop and talk to her. The general never let me stray too far from his sight. As such, I was never far from the king.

They had sent a messenger to Karnack for Isis, but she wouldn't be here for days. By then it might already be too late.

The hall outside his rooms was filled with his court of officials, all of whom had been denied access. I could hear their whispers as I slipped in and out of the room and refused to answer their questions when they finally noticed I was there. I was silent, as I had been told to be. They spoke of the young kings impending demise. Of how he was unmarried and without heirs to ascend the throne. Who would take his place? There was no mention of a possible cure or remedy, and cruel words were spoken where before there had been only praises.

I had always hated politics. And politicians.

I pushed through them, using elbows to bruise ribs as I made my way through. The doctor had been called for what felt like ages ago, and now, time was running out and he still wasn't here. I could see the panic on the generals' face, his sorrow, and as I looked down on the pallid complexion of the boy he called king I pitied him. My hand moved without conscious thought to a small gold necklace they hadn't been able to take from me when I had been dressed up as a doll. After the death of our father, and Carols near-death experience Ryan had become paranoid, demanding we all carry an antitoxin. Three of the small pill could fit in the lockets he gave us. Egypt was full of poisonous snakes after all.

I could use it. I could save him. I had two more and Carol had another three if things turned for the worst.

But this man, this boy. This cruel, cold boy. Did he deserve it? We knew he died young, we'd seen the evidence in his tomb. His mummy. The thought that I would be a part of that – his life ending before it could begin – that I could choose, and if I chose to let him die, expected to mourn as his body withered and was buried, locked away. The thought turned my stomach.

He might die, but I would not be a part of it. I would prevent it if I could.

Mind made up, I made my way to his bedside, setting down the bowl so I could slip an arm underneath his shoulders. He was heavy, overly warm, and I had to push hair matted with sweat away from his face with my other hand. His eyes were open and though they were dazed, he focused on me with a surprising amount of clarity. "Do not fight me on this, it'll make everything better." Still weak, he couldn't resist as I pulled his mouth open, making sure he couldn't spit the pill out again once I gave it to him. The others had noticed what I was doing; I heard their cries of alarm, and I flinched as a large hand clamped down on my arm.

"What are you doing!"

Memphis didn't spit it out, but his jaw snapped shut, his teeth cutting into my fingers even as he finally swallowed the medicine that would save his life. I reared back as he glared at me, my blood smeared across his lips. The hand that had been holding my arm spun me around. I faced the enraged eyes of the general with a detached type of horror.

I had never been more afraid of him.

"I saved his life!" I snarled, "While you stood by and did nothing."

"You lie," he shook me, and my head snapped back with a force that left me dizzy, "you've always hated him, hated the fact that he brought you and your sister here. You've been waiting for this to happen, for him to die. What, was this taking too long? What did you give him?"

I scoffed, "It's medicine, I saved his life," I said it again, slowly this time and used my free hand to point to his liege, "look for yourself, and let go."

He all but dropped me as if I had burned him, giving me one last distrustful before moving my check my claim. But I hadn't been lying, and the shocked gasp was enough to prove he believed me. Memphis was breathing better already, his face not as pale. It was as though he had taken several steps back from death.

"You were not lying."

"No."

Minues' head was bent over the hand of his king as he checked his pulse, and when he looked back up at me there were tears in his eyes, "How?"

"I've seen cobra bites before." At my words he stood, taking my hands in a much gentler manner than he had done previously. I was thrown at the change, briefly trying to pull my hands free. But he tightened his own, keeping me there.

"Then you can help him?" He must have seen the look on my face because his hands tightened, "Please." I broke under his stare, my own eyes closing.

"Yes, I'll help him."

The general might have looked relieved, but the knowledge that I would be spending the foreseeable future nursing the spoiled king back to health left me anything but.

Caring for the whiny brat was a full-time job and I spent the next few days awake and irritated, but it wouldn't be completely true if I said I didn't enjoy it just a little. He was only conscious for small intervals, but when he was he was oddly compliant, following me as I moved around his room with dark eyes. I got the sense he thought he was dreaming. Few others were allowed inside the pharaohs private quarters, but even the general jumped to do my bidding, asking for my opinion. If it had been any other situation it would have felt normal, like home. But I was no one's equal here.

However, that didn't mean I wouldn't take advantage of the feeling.

And I did. Take advantage, I mean.

The general had brought me dinner that evening, had even stayed to eat it with me. I had found the palace archives the day before – after the pharaoh had first stabilized – and was looking over sheets of parchment detailing the medicinal plants found in the area. He had watched me for a moment, unblinking, and then set the tray down on the small gold table in front of me.

"You can read," A statement filled with surprise. I snorted – I couldn't help it – and set the papers aside, taking the chalice he handed me with a rueful smile. "That's unusual."

"I'm not from here. I wasn't always a slave." I reminded him, and his gaze flickered from my own to my hair and back again. "Things are different."

He leaned back in his chair and it was as though he was seeing me for the first time. "Where are you and your sister from?" He asked me, with a casual sort of disinterest, but I could see even as he did so he moved closer and the weight of his curiosity was stifling.

"West of here, across the sea." His brow furrowed like he wasn't pleased with my answer.

"There is nothing west of here."

I hummed, noncommittal, "Not yet."

He paused for a moment, unsure of how to respond. I could see it on his face. There was a tense, awkward silence and I could physically see him shake my comment away, "And the circumstances that led you here." This had begun to feel a lot less like chatting and more like an interrogation.

My eyes narrowed, "An unfortunate accident that to an even more unfortunate series of events. We fell into the Nile and well, the rest is history."

He knew I wasn't telling him everything, but I didn't care. There was no doubt in my mind that he would eventually corner Carol, and that she would give the same story. I smiled. His questions would continue to go unanswered.

He sighed and settled back into his seat, officially fed up with me and suddenly looking tired, "And His Majesty, his condition."

"Improving daily, he should be up and about soon."

The rest of that afternoon passed without incident. The conversation was never repeated or brought up again, but I could feel him watching me, openly curious and for the next two days he spoke with me over a variety of topics; from meal recipes to medicine to architecture, we covered politics and local history. Perhaps I was being careless, but as I mentioned before…I am a proud creature. The chance to preen had been too difficult to resist. And he had seemed so interested, so engaged, even debating with me on several topics where we happened to have a difference of opinion.

It was nice.

And during those days, while I was busy playing nurse and arguing over spiced wine I had hardly seen Carol, just glimpses. I had hardly thought about how we were going to get back home. About Rodney or our mother. Ryan. They must have been worried sick; tearing the country apart looking for us.

It was nice and I was so selfish.

I had cried, great heaving sobs after Minue left, leaving me in the room with no one but a sleeping king for company.

xXx

Memphis was nice when he was quiet. I thought he was beautiful.

And he was. Truly.

It was the kind of beauty only found in shadows, the kind you can't keep. At least not forever.

Saving him had been the right thing to do. The only thing to do. The human thing. But I didn't understand what I felt when I looked at him. I was supposed to stand on the steps by his throne, next to his feet. A pretty pet with a gold collar. I was supposed to serve him his wine, and to hold gilded plates filled with fine foods for him to enjoy at his leisure was an honor I was constantly being reminded of. I should have been gracious, proud of the favoritism he had shown me in the short time I had been here. Envied by all. Even his sister.

He'd reach down to run his fingers through my hair, combing it until it shone in the main halls dim light.

I had wanted to cut it all off, to tear at it and scream and cry because of the way everyone looked at me; like I was a novelty, an animal to be caged and admired. And all the while they would be safe and distant on the open side of the bars, never getting too close. I was to be led around by a chain and I was supposed to smile.

There were times I thought I hated him. But I tended to think too much when left alone.

When he finally opened his eyes, it had been three days. Three days of round the clock care. I had fallen asleep hunched over the edge of the bed, and when the pharaoh grabbed my arm, pulling me out of my dreams, the first thing I noticed was how my legs had fallen asleep, how much my back hurt.

And even though he was still half asleep, the grip he had on me was enough to bruise, "I saw you. I saw you in my dreams."

I didn't know what to say. But Minue stepped in before I had to.

"It was no dream, Evelyn saved your life and cared for you in the days after. She is most dedicated. She has not left your side." He was trying to give me my due, praise me. But their combined attentions made me uncomfortable even as I held the king's gaze. His hold on me loosened, dropping off completely as I stepped back. They were both silent as if they expected me to say something, to jump in about how dedicated I truly was.

Then the door burst open and Isis was there.

And the moment was broken and I slipped out the door.


	12. Chapter 10

Fever dreams and late nights. Incense and low torchlight. _Hard muscle on silk sheets._

I had spent so long cooped up in the kings' rooms they now seemed more familiar to me than my own. Not that my own were all that familiar to begin with. When had it all gotten so normal? The guards had lost their intimidation, the palace its sense of mystery, even the shock of time had all but faded away. It no longer felt like a fantastic dream, but a nightmare.

It was never-ending, a slow sort of torture. And it was my new reality. Our new reality.

Luckily, I was not given much time to ponder my situation. There were other things to think about, other people to worry about; without the medicines I was used to having access to, nursing Memphis back to health was all guesswork after giving him the initial cure. I was stumbling around in the dark again.

For the first few days, he had hardly been conscious. After a week, I was starting to wish he had stayed that way. Two and I would have gone out and caught another snake myself. But Minue was insistent and dedicated, sweeping in just when I had begun to contemplate regicide. Not for the first time I wondered what Memphis had done to garner such loyalty. Minue was far too good for him.

And still; save him. _Save him._ I had racked my brain under the pressure, trying to remember everything we had done for Carol after her attack; all the foods we had had her eat, the amount of rest she had needed to get, all the teas our mother had made her choke down. I wasn't willing to use any more of the actual anti-toxin; the number of snakes I'd seen recently had me clutching it to my chest in a desperate fit of self-preservation. I would have to consider more _alternative_ options.

At my insistence, they opened the palace library for me, and I spent hours poring over what they did have in regard to natural remedies. I tried quite of few of the ones I recognized, and there was a certain amount of joy that came from testing them and telling a man who was unused to being told what to do, well, what to do.

Memphis obeyed all my orders with a certain amount of petulance, dragging it out with his dark eyes and lingering hands, yet there was something else underneath that. It made my heart beat faster and my palms sweat. How was I supposed to handle this? Feel about it?

I wouldn't deny that I enjoyed the attention to an extent. The same extent that any woman would enjoy a powerful and attractive man's attention. A dangerous man. And still, I needed to make up my mind. Or so Carol told me. I had agreed if only to appease her and found the matter heavy on my shoulders. Irritancy came to me quickly at the thought of him, anger next, hopelessness, a healthy amount of fear… _there were just so many things I needed to sort through._ And after days of the other servants whispering behind hands and in darkened doorways I finally decided; it was a sensation I was distinctly uncomfortable with. _Yes, uncomfortable._ That I could be. Unemotional. Unattached. That I could handle.

I didn't think I could handle it for long.

But he was quick to smile, those strange feelings fading into the background at his smug grin. And if he looked at me in a way he hadn't before, if he caught my hand in his when I checked for a fever and held it…well, I pretended not to notice. Not to care. If his orders kept me close and he demanded my time. I wasn't in a position where I could refuse.

God help me, but I was only human.

It didn't matter – shouldn't matter – that he was so different now, where he was so vulnerable and dependent on me. That there were moments he made me laugh with his surprisingly sharp wit. That once he found out I could read, that he asked me to read to him as often as he could manage to get the words out. It didn't matter that I loved that he asked, not demanded, but asked with a hopeful look and a hand outstretched like he wanted to meet me in the middle.

Which was something I never thought he would do.

Then there were the moments he was half asleep and his words slurred, just a bit. _**Please, just one.**_ He'd point to his bedside table where there were piles of parchment. Everything from harvest reports to actual stories. He would pat a spot beside him on the bed, sitting up to laugh at the hesitant look on my face while I stuttered a no. _**You make it seem more interesting.**_ He said it with a smile, and he was oh so charming. So, I'd give when while he fought to stay awake, and in the silence of the room there was no one else to see me run my hands through his hair and sigh.

I told myself it was because he was so handsome, and I was spending so much time with him. The weight of his gaze was starting to feel less like I was an object he already owned and more like a person he wanted to possess.

I was thankful for small mercies.

 _And I liked feeling needed. Was that really so terrible?_ The Lidos had never needed me. It had been the other way around. I was a constant damsel in distress, a charity case. And he was just so different from the man that had tossed to the floor that first day, all of his demands almost endearing. The cruel boy I had first been faced with seemed nothing but a nightmare after weeks of charm.

But just because I wasn't facing the brunt of his darker characteristics didn't mean somebody else wasn't. What did it say about me that I was willing to pretend I didn't notice that either?

 _I should have been honored by his favoritism._

"Evelyn." He called to me from across the room, a slow drawl that was only slightly tinted with impatience. I had been admiring a wall covered with bright paintings and hieroglyphs. It was his family history, detailing his divine right to rule. My heart stuttered even as I rolled my eyes at the arrogance on display. It was captivating despite all that. I traced over the paints with reverence. The sun. The painted faces.

"Water." He broke me from my musing with his demands and I had to restrain myself from throwing something at him; the pitcher and chalice were right next to his bed.

I moved slowly at his second order, taking my time, and I grinned as he growled. Antagonizing him was just too entertaining _. As long as I didn't push him too far._ I was always careful to just toe at the edge. Maybe push a rock or two over to see where they'd land. _Ever so recklessly careful._

He held onto my wrist as I tried to hand him the cup, calloused fingers wrapping around my own and keeping me there, pressed against the metal as he drank. Heat rushed to my face at the look on his face, the feeling almost unbearable in the already stuffy room. His grip was strong, and my hand was completely dwarfed by his own. Small and delicate in comparison. It surprised me, intimidated me, and I made to pry it free, but he only pulled me back down again with a smug smile in place. Like he knew what I was thinking.

"Sit with me for a while," he said and placed the hand that had been holding mine on the bed beside him, patting it twice. For a moment, I thought he wasn't serious, that all I would have to do was move to the chair I had been sitting in for the past week, pick up one of the rolled scrolls and try to ignore the way his eyes settled on my lips until he fell asleep. That was supposed to be the worst of it. I wanted it to be. The other worst-case scenarios I wasn't un-naive enough to not think weren't worth thinking about.

 _Now my head hurt._

I watched his previous smile twist into a frown, and then a scowl at my reluctance. An expression I was all too used to seeing him wear. His hand found mine again while I was distracted, and this time it was harsh and controlling where before it had been gentle and teasing. I flinched, leaning back instinctively at the look in his eyes. I wondered how long it would take me to get used to his quick temper. He was surprisingly strong for someone recovering from a poisoning, and I fell onto rich silk and fine linens when he all but pulled me into his lap. "I said sit."

I glared as he put his arms around my shoulders and hissed as one of his hands ran down my arm to stroke at my wrist, "I heard you." I shifted against his hold, aware now more than ever of the fact that his chest was bare, pressing against my back once I was settled between his thighs.

He was cold. Or maybe I was the one that was cold. I certainly felt frozen sitting there. I could feel his breath ghost over the curve of my shoulder, ruffling my hair as he sighed. The edge of his nose on my pulse.

It wasn't fair, how easily he could make my heart stutter. It really wasn't.

I knew it was a bad idea, playing with fire in a way. But passive aggressive acts of defiance? How could I resist? I moved just a bit, pressing into his embrace just enough, as I tilted my head to rest against his shoulder. By the time I had managed to turn myself enough to face him he was so tense I thought his jaw might crack under the strain. Maybe it had. I fought a grin and went to tug at a loose strand of hair hanging over his arm. He had leaned forward, closer than I had previously thought, shadows cast over his face. I didn't have to fight that grin anymore. It had disappeared.

He looked like he might laugh, but there was anger in his gaze too. Such sudden immediate anger. Perhaps because I was bold enough to tease him. But after a few minutes under his stare reality set in. _Not bold. Impulsive._

It wasn't a bad idea, it was a terrible idea.

I could feel the panic beginning to set in. This wasn't a regular boy like the ones I was used too. I couldn't go running to Ryan when I pushed the game too far. Standing up and moving away seemed the best option, so I tried. And I must have gone too far because I _couldn't._

Stand up that is. His arms were like steel, locked around me and I suddenly wasn't in the mood to play into one of his tantrums. I wasn't. If anyone had the right to be upset, it was me. I wasn't the one clearly lacking self-control.

We held each other's gaze for a while. Light against dark. _I looked away first._ Because as much as I hated it – loathed it – I knew enough to know my place.

And then there was noise from outside the doors – the heavy sound of guards in armor. That usually meant Isis, and recently she had become my most convenient escape route, preferring not to have me in the room while she spent time with her brother. I stood while he was distracted, his hand still on my arm, and in his current state he couldn't follow me as I moved to the door and waited there. His eyes were wide, and I watched him frantically try and adjust the blankets around his waist.

The door swung open, a step away from hitting me where I stood in shadow. They wouldn't look at me, even though they knew I was there. But then they never did unless it was when they were telling me to leave. It took tremendous effort not to fidget while I watched the door; I had to stay until Isis dismissed me – my earlier runout had not gone by without reprimand. There had been more than one occasion where I had been made to wait for hours before being allowed to go. Something I was still bitter about.

Memphis sighed and swung his legs off the bed, eyes still on me and a hand outstretched, "Come back here." But I shook my head as they stepped into the room. His sister and her guards.

Isis's heated glare was only on me for a moment before turning her suddenly loving countenance to Memphis again. The guards stared for an uncomfortable moment longer. The neckline of my dress had been pulled down and a breeze brushed against my bare skin, making me shiver. _Memphis had grabbed at my dress,_ I realized, _trying to pull me back_. A blush emerged, and I could feel the heat radiating from my face. I tugged at the hem frantically. I was absolutely mortified. Eventually, Isis noticed that I was still there – the fact that her brothers' eyes were fixed on me over her shoulder a pretty clear indication he wasn't paying her any attention – and even the frigid chill she emanated wasn't enough to cool my blush. At her nod, I left at all but a run, slipping out before Memphis could say a word to stop me.

I didn't want to stay in there anyway. They had taken to fighting so often that standing too close to them could result in serious injury. Even breathing the air around them could prove toxic.

It was all because they had canceled the wedding in the wake of his injury and the disappearance of the Hittite princess. _Among other things_. The news that maybe they wouldn't be such a great couple after all was apparently shocking. Isis had been screaming so loudly the entire palace had heard her and avoided her as a result. I could feel her eyes on me, _all the time_ , following me when I wasn't at her brothers' bedside. Her anger worried me; she wasn't the type to sit quietly. I knew she was planning something. And I hated waiting for it. It made me jumpy, paranoid.

I was afraid.

 **xXx**

In the quiet – or rather tense – time that followed, I convinced Minue that having Carol help me with the pharaoh's recovery was in everyone's best interest. And I was beyond thankful that he didn't know me well enough to know I was lying. Convincing him hadn't been hard; we had the same background, and she could step in if I was somewhere else. Which at this point, that was all I wanted to be.

 _Somewhere else. Anywhere. I'd have taken the dungeons if it got me any peace._ He had fully recovered now anyway. Moaning and groaning for no one's benefit but his own. I told myself he just liked the attention. After all, he had commandeered mine for more than three weeks. I had the feeling he would try to keep it that way as long as he could.

And I missed my sister. They had kept us apart initially, placing me in the kitchens and her somewhere else, cleaning I assumed. Her hands were red, cracked and bleeding from scrubbing floors. So, it wasn't much of an assumption. She cried when she saw me, hugging me so tight I thought my ribs would crack. I wheezed and struggled, managing to free my arms and pat her on the back a bit awkwardly.

"I'm so glad you're alright," she whispered into my hair. She was shaking, and her hands were cold where they pressed against my back. "I've heard stories from some of the others."

"What do you mean?" I knew what she was talking about, but I was also all too aware of the pharaohs guards watching us from a few feet behind, slowly moving closer. But she was speaking too low and too quickly for them to catch despite the clear effort they were putting into eavesdropping.

"He's cruel and demanding. Quick to lash out, to hurt people…I don't want you in there with him."

I wanted to pull back and deny it, to grin and tell her he wasn't all that bad. That he made my heart stutter, just a tiny tiny bit. I wanted to giggle and sigh and gossip because wasn't it just bordering on exciting. _Wasn't it just?_ Nothing like this ever happened to me. Rodney always told me I was too serious, too cold, too defiant to ever attract a member of the opposite sex. And even though I would laugh and grab his arm to tell him that __ _"he shouldn't worry, he's the only guy I'd ever be interested in"_ and he would fake a gag and smile… it still hurt. And there were quiet tearful moments that I would never admit to where I wondered if he was right.

And now, right now, there was a powerful handsome _terrible_ man that was interested in me. I couldn't have stopped that fluttery feeling if I tried. But telling Carol all of this seemed impossible. She wouldn't understand, wouldn't care or try to. I held back a snort; her only experience with men so far had been Jimmy. Sweet, obvious, oblivious Jimmy. She wanted that for me too, maybe even expected it.

A man our parents would approve of. Well-mannered with a nine to five job and a superiority complex. Memphis only had one of those things. I pulled back with a strained smile and whispered, "I don't have a choice," – whether I was speaking of having to spend time with him or that I was beginning to like him… well that was for me to know and her to never find out – then said louder, "I'm glad you here. Let's take a walk."

I led her out into the palace grounds, a carefully kept courtyard right outside the pharaohs rooms. It was the only one I was now allowed into, one where he could see me. It was beautiful for all its confinement; spacious, full of light, with a large pool that drew water from the Nile.

It was full of flowers.

"You look nice," she commented, taking some of the fabric of my dress into her fingers, "like at the banquet." It was true, the boxy dark dress I had worn to bake bread had been replaced with lighter flowing fabrics. _Covered in gold to match my hair._ Dressed up again as a doll with something new every day. Isis had hated it. Sneering at me. _This doesn't change what you are._ She had hissed it at me while Memphis smiled, because _didn't she like the dress he could have one like mine made for her too._

He was such a stupid boy. I hated knowing that I might pay for his ignorance.

 _How long had we been here?_ I didn't know, but Carol's hair was longer now, past her shoulders.

"You do too." I ran my hands through it, and she sighed, leaning on my shoulder. I had taken off my sandals, placing my feet into the water to soothe the blisters and reached down to pluck one of the lotuses nearby. She hummed, taking it from me to look at the petals.

"Not in the same way." She almost sounded jealous. But that was ridiculous, the type of attention I was receiving from Memphis was dangerous. He was used to getting what he wanted with little concern for anyone else. That included me.

And then there was his rather unpleasant add-on. Isis shadowed his every move, every decision. She clung to him and his apathy to her devotion was almost hard to watch. Isis was influential and cold, as a high priestess the amount of power she had as a religious figure in lower Egypt was great, greater than I was comfortable with. The shift in power between her and her brother could tear Egypt apart should their relationship sour futher.

 _Their eyes on me were a brand._

Carol sighed again. She sounded frustrated, "You saved his life, you gave him the medicine Ryan gave us and you shouldn't have. Everyone is talking about it. Advisers, officials, soldiers, scribes, the nobility and slaves alike." her voice twisted into something bitter, almost angry, "About how great you are, how…how beautiful; a gift from the Nile. You've been with him every day, so you probably haven't heard. Too busy playing house to care, huh?"

I turned, whether to scold her or defend myself against her oh so sudden accusations I didn't know, "It was the right thing to do, you're forgetting that he is the only thing standing between us and Isis. That table and her shiny dagger, or don't you remember?" I paused, suddenly serious, "You would have saved him, if it had been you."

"No!" she spat back, "I would not have, and I think it's you who's forgetting. He still has Sechi – the boy that saved our lives – down in his dungeons and bleeding on his orders. When was that last time you thought about him, or Sephora, or _me_?"

I scoffed, "I am always thinking of you!" I didn't bother to hide the hurt in my voice, or the resentment. "Don't put yourself up on the high road just yet. Neither of us can do anything concrete without risking our lives, and then what would he do? What have _you_ done? Found a way home yet? Secretly freed Sechi and sent _him_ home? I've already asked Memphis to stop hurting Sechi, and he agreed. As far as I know, he has kept his word."

She growled and rolled her eyes, "As far as you know. I don't believe him."

"Oh please, has it ever occurred to you that while Sechi is here, he is not out there. No working, no toiling out under the desert sun. Three meals a day and water. His situation could be a lot worse. He could be dead, but he isn't and despite what you believe I have every intention of keeping him that way." I took the lotus back, irrationally angry over the way she was bruising the petals with her tight grip. I looked at it while I spoke, not wanting to see the expression I knew would be clear on her face.

She wanted to yell at me, I could tell. She wanted to sneer at me with her usual amount superiority. So much better than me, always better than me.

Never forget where you come from.

 _The irony was that that was all I wanted to do._

We would have continued to argue over my apparent lapse in judgment. We'd had similar arguments before. But suddenly Memphis was there, helping me up, standing between us.

He wrapped an arm around me and I didn't miss the look she sent me at his almost absentminded motion. With an air of absolute confidence, he took the bloom from me to tuck it into my hair and leaned back a bit to study it with soft sort of look in his eyes. And then his attention shifted, and he turned me bodily to face the Nile. For a moment I was worried he had heard us, and this was one of those times he hid dark anger under false cheer. But my concerns were soon proved unnecessary.

The courtyard had filled up while we'd been distracted, the sound of loud and excited voices hiding our own. I was grateful; that meant he hadn't heard what – or rather who – we had been fighting about.

He leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of my ear and I could feel his smile, "One of my ministers, Imhotep." He pointed to his private harbor, where a great number of riverboats were pulling in, looking heavy and travel-worn. "He brings gifts for me, pharaoh of Egypt, from Syria, Palestine and Libya." Still with his arm around me, he motioned for Carol to follow – not looking to see if she did – and began heading back into the palace, to the same place the banquet had been held the first night he had brought us here. Apparently, it was the only space big enough to house the current reception. The shade was a welcome relief after being out in the sun, and I sighed in contentment at the change.

"And for you."

I looked at him, startled by his sudden proclamation and thoroughly confused. He smiled again. All boyish charm.

"Gifts... for you. You may choose a gift."

I was too surprised to say anything. We were inside the hall now anyway, and there were rows upon rows of people. Bent and sunburned, bowing under the weight of the things they carried. Holding jewels, fabrics, spices, oil, gold and silver. Memphis directed me to stand behind his chair as his minister, a tall and stately man, listed his tribute; proof of Egypt's reach and power as an empire. Wealth beyond even my own wildest dreams.

They spoke for a while, long enough for me to get tired of standing and begin to shift impatiently as my feet started to ache. They mentioned Isis, and I learned that the sense of peace the palace had recently settled into was due to her prolonged absence in her shrine. A number of days south down the Nile, he had passed her barge on his way here. And the temple, a great ostentatious building made of shining stone.

I shivered as I remembered my own previous visit to one of her places of worship. It was cold now after standing still in the shade for so long, the thin slit sleeves of my dress suddenly seeming terribly impractical and I had taken to rubbing my arms in an attempt to warm myself.

The sudden appearance of Memphis's hand on my own was warm and I jumped, startled at the unexpected feel of his touch. His mouth was twisted in a way that made me think he was equal parts irritated and amused. He had clearly tried to call my name, and at my lack of response had proceeded to gather my attention by slipping a hand into my own. It felt rather… well rather personal. We were surrounded by people. His subjects. I fought off the urge to blush.

He was holding a necklace in his other hand, "Sapphires, for your eyes." He explained proudly. His hand slid to my shoulder, pushing my hair to the side as he made to clasp the stones around my neck.

I pulled back at the touch of cold metal on the delicate skin of my throat, uncomfortable with the lavish gift and watched as his face changed, on the verge of becoming something shadowed and dark.

"You said I could choose." I reminded him quickly, before he could think I was refusing. I was relieved beyond measure to see his brow even out and his eyes soften a moment later. He gave a small nod and pulled back to recline against the back of his chair, the necklace still tightly held in his grip.

He waved his hand to the pile of riches before us, and my gaze was drawn once again to the glittering piles of gold and silver, "I did. Your wish is my command." He assured me, "Tell me what it is you desire, and you shall have it." And in the silence after even Imhotep turned to hear my answer.

"A sword," I said slowly, after much thought, and ignoring both of their shocked looks I held up a hand as I continued, "for His Majesty and His Majesty's army. Troubled times are ahead, Egypt's continued prosperity is all I truly wish for. "

Absolute silence.

Then the minister laughed, giving me a delighted look, "Minue was right. Smart girl." I almost frowned at the sheer surprise in his voice. It could almost be considered astonishment. He reached out to brush at my hair and pulled a golden curl between two fingers, "I assume you have previously heard whispers, _foreign_ whispers."

I hummed, "In a manner of speaking."

Imhotep faced his king, and the laughter was still there in his voice, "Will you grant the lady's request?"

Memphis, who had been watching our exchange with a strange sort of look on his face, caught my hand in his and pressed a kiss to the back. Without breaking his gaze from mine he finally managed to settle the necklace around my throat. It sat cradled above my collar bone as though it had been made just for me. Maybe it had. _A perfect fit._ "She shall have both."

 **xXx**

 _Evie was wrong._

Carol wiped tears from her eyes and sniffled, clutching the blanket she was using to hide her face tighter around her head. She _was_ going to do something. And it wasn't going to be just _asking_ for the whipping to stop. She'd break Sechi out of the dungeons and find a way home, even if Evie wasn't going to help her. She thought of her mother, and her brothers. If she could find a way to go back home, she would, even if it meant going alone, and then she would find some way to get Evie. She would. It was just that…

She wanted to go home. So badly.

And it was like her sister didn't care. She was so caught up in the history, the culture, _the pharaoh._ It was like she couldn't see anything else. Carol had seen Evie standing by him, she saw the way he looked at her; like he didn't want to let her go. They'd been sitting back in his rooms. Evie, the pharaoh, the general and the man that had shown up today, laughing over the wine her sister served from a silver pitcher. Evie's hand had been on the back of the pharaohs chair. Every few minutes he would turn to hold out his glass. Their fingers would brush together, eyes would linger. The common enough gesture seemed so…so personal, almost intimate.

It was all happening so fast. They had only been here, in the palace, for a month…maybe a little more, she didn't know. The days had started to blur together. Which was why she needed to escape. She slipped through the courtyard Evie had taken her to earlier, suddenly grateful for all the wine the men had been drinking. They were less than diligent. She thought she had felt her sisters' eyes on her, just for a moment, but when she looked back she couldn't see her, and the feeling passed. Just a couple more turns and she'd be there.

General Minue had placed guards outside the dungeon entrance after the first time they had snuck in, but everyone was celebrating. Drinking. Even with her hands shaking it was unbelievably easy to steal the keys to Sechi's cell. The stairs were as dark as she remembered, the hallway of cells just as depressing.

He looked better than before. There was less pain; the lines around his eyes had smoothed out and his mouth was less pinched. And when Carol unlocked the door he looked at her with stars in his eyes and told her he would follow her anywhere. He didn't ask where Evie was, or how she had gotten the keys, not even why it had taken her so long to free him. If they got far enough away none of that would matter.

She held his hand. "There should be boats down by the river."

There was a moment. Fast and fleeting and powerful. She wasn't a damsel in distress like her brothers insisted she should be. She wasn't a child who was young and reckless as Evie claimed. No. Here she was, having sprung her friend from prison, hiding under a tattered blanket and ready to face whatever came after. She took one step, and another, feeling as though they were actually going to make it.

Or perhaps it was more that they _would_ have made it. All the way down to the muddy bank, into a wooden boat and down the river before anyone would even think to look for them. But Carol was under the impression the universe was out to get her, to punish her with an unending case of _terrible rotten no good bad luck_ – probably for opening the tomb in the first place – and as a small withered hand closed around her shoulder she let out a girlish shriek her sister would never let her live down.

That same hand turned her around, "I'm sorry, Carol." _The generals' mother; Nefertari_. The woman looked sad and determined, her mouth set in a firm line. Carol thought she had never seemed so old. A tug, "I won't let you run away." Carols hood fell, and at the sudden shove Sechi tried to swoop in. He stepped forward, bruised and indignant and noble.

"Let go of her!"

He made to move towards them, only to be restrained by a man Carol didn't recognize. It took so little effort to hold him back and Sechi watched with a painful sort of hopelessness as Carol tried to break free from the older woman's hold, to no avail.

Nefertari tried to console her, "Don't be foolish Carol. This is for your own good! Even if you had managed to get away, you would have been caught eventually. Our Pharaoh is not the sort of man to let his things go, and if he discovers what you have tried to do, if you had actually accomplished your endeavor… do you know how severe the punishment would have been?" An arm wrapped around Carol's waist, less of a restraint and more of a lead. "If not for your own sake then for your sisters'. She has worked far too hard for you to throw away the favor she has earned on a whim."

Carol gave up on her struggles, shoulders sinking as she let her head fall into her hands. "Please," She moaned, "I just want to home."

But Nefertari just shook her head, gaze solid and unyielding against Carol's sorrow. "I won't let you ruin this. You don't understand… but I've seen it, my son has seen it. Memphis… he's changing for the better, and it's all because of your sister." Sechi still fought, and with a sigh of frustration she ordered the man holding him to take him to her son. Minue would know what to do, how to hide this. He would talk to Evelyn, or she would ask him to later, when she could catch him outside the kings' company… Carol needed to be kept on a tighter leash.

"Let me take you back to your room."

A shaky nod was all the encouragement necessary, and the palaces head of staff felt ten times lighter as she began to lead the now crying girl back into gated grounds. It was just the two of them now, the sound of her borrowed guard and the boy having long since faded. None of the others would notice them trekking through polished courtyards, it was late into the night, the celebration all but over. Her son's rigorously trained men had traded in their spears and armor for a glass of wine and insipid smiles.

They were so close now, passing a wing of the palace she rarely visited. _Her Majesty Isis's personal shrine._ The key phrase there was 'rarely visited'. She wasn't the only one who made an effort to stay as far away from this place as possible.

That was why it was so strange to see a girl marching straight towards it like someone on a mission. Nefertari slowed, and then stopped completely in surprise. The action caused Carol to look up from where she had been staring at her feet.

"What? What is it?" Carol sniffed and followed her line of sight to see the starved figure entering the shrine. Although in the young girl's mind it gave the impression of being a crypt. Blinking in surprise, she sputtered as Nefertari pulled her up the stairs to follow, "That… that's the Hittite princess. She's supposed to be back in her own country, didn't she leave weeks ago?" There was a pause. "She looks terrible."

She truly did. Barefoot and shivering, dressed in stained rags with a desperate angry look in her eyes. Her hair had lost its shine, it lay in flat tangles down her back. She had been stripped bare of all her jewelry but the gems that still glittered in her hair. There was no other evidence of the finery that declared her station. It was that look that did it. That look. Carol had seen it before, on street urchins caught for stealing, on the slaves back in Gosen, _on Evie the night they'd been caught_. I t made her heart hurt and her throat close up.

 _Something bad was going to happen._

There was no resistance now as Nefertari pulled her further into the building.

She couldn't look away.


	13. Chapter 11

A/N

I'm sorry! I'm sorry it's so short and it took me so long to update! Believe it or not I usually try to have at least five thousand words per chapter… the key word there being try.

A huge ecstatic shout to **Sleeping Moon** , who is amazing and helped me get over my writer's block with this chapter and whose support is invaluable to me.

And to guest **01paige01** , (you still here?) who not only reviewed pretty much every chapter – thanks babe, made my month ok I needed that – but read every chapter within like a day. This thing is over 40k words. That's a decent amount of time you've dedicated. I just wish I could have sent a thank you message… but alas you commented as a guest and I can only thank you here.

To all of my regulars who reviewed and are thankfully still here: I love you. This is for you.

Isis knew she could fix this. She knew she could, she just didn't know how. The easy answer was right in front of her, it always had been _. Kill them._ But in the beginning, it had been so fun. Toying with them, watching them crumble and flounder, having complete control. Over their lives, their fate. They had ruined everything, Carol and Evelyn, their family. Ravaged her brothers' tomb, stolen his body – tearing his soul from the afterlife - and if that hadn't been enough, they had _lost_ him. In a way, he was still lost.

She hadn't been able to resist the temptation to gloat. To draw it out when they reacted just the way she knew they would. Which had been a mistake, because now the easy option wasn't so easy.

So here she was, pacing because things had already gone too far. Memphis… he wasn't _playing_ anymore, or if he was it was on a completely different board. Gone were his dark whispers and callous smiles, replaced instead by soft looks and an eager grin. _She hated it._ But it wasn't his fault. He was weak-willed, too easily distracted by shiny things. That had to be it. There was simply no other reason for this... this infatuation he seemed to have developed for Evelyn after she saved his life.

She was furious. So completely damningly angry over how he was mooning over that… that _thing_. Evelyn was so much less than what Memphis deserved. He just didn't see it. Instead, he lavished that stupid girl with attention. The clothes, the jewelry, the way he looked at her, the way he _touched_ her. It should have been her, _her_ that had saved him that fateful day. She should have had his love. Isis knew she deserved it, all of it. His devotion, his heart, his soul. Everything. And she would do anything to keep it when it was all finally hers.

It was why he needed her. Why they needed each other. She would keep him on the right path, level-headed and unaffected by anything but her. She wanted to be his only weakness. And he would love her for it. They would rule together as they were meant to, as was decreed by her, by their gods.

Isis sighed, thoroughly frustrated and turned to kneel at the edge of her alter. She would pray, and she would wait for the gods to answer her, to guide her as they always did. Briefly, she thought of ordering a calf to be brought in and strapped to her alter, or perhaps one of the older slaves… she shook her head, the polished stone was hardly visible now, dark patches of red flaking to fall at her feet as blood dried. She would settle for prayers and try again when the previous mess was cleaned away.

Ten minutes had barely gone by when a muffled scream cut her concentration, the practiced chant she had uttered fading away into eerie silence. Her name, the sound coming from the hallway leading out to the palace's inner courtyard. Still crouched, Isis could only half turn towards the noise and was more than surprised to see the Hittite princess. Dirty and starved, but free from her cage.

Isis stood, facing the other girl completely, and waited.

She was holding a knife; the only clean thing about her, and as Milanun lunged forward, something between a sob and a growl tore free from her throat. She'd been muttering under her breath, and as Isis dodged her first unsteady attack, she could finally hear what the disheveled girl had been saying.

"-ill you. I'll kill you."

Isis sighed and fought off a smile, or rather she tried too. _What a fool._

It was too easy to disarm the wretched creature. It almost wasn't worth the effort. The knife now held firmly in her own hands the priestess took a moment to study the other girl from where she stood frozen. The way she struggled to stand, the way her hands shook. That desperate wild look in her eyes.

She was hardly more than an animal. _A beast. Worthless for all things but one_. A cruel smile gracing her painted lips Isis backhanded the princess hard enough to split her lip, sending her crashing back. A pot of oil tipped, shattering against her weight and the dark liquid pooled around her crumpled form, soaking into her dress and coating her skin. It was just too perfect an opportunity. Isis's grin widened.

"I'm glad you're here," she said softly, stalking forward in a way that was deceptive in its casualness. "I'm musing over a particularly difficult question. I was going to ask later rather than sooner… but I think you're just the thing I need to get the kind of answers I'm looking for." Her hand had wrapped gently around the ornate stem of a nearby lamp while she spoke, and the flame cast distorted shadows over her face, swallowing her eyes and gleaming against the white of her teeth.

"I think they'll be pleased with what you have to offer."

There was a moment of cold clarity where the princess met Isis's eyes as if she knew what was going to happen, though that clarity was rapidly fading, "I have people looking for me, and they will find out what you have done, and they will punish you for it. They will wage a war for me and I hope they kill you. They'll kill you and everything you love they'll kill you, the- "

It could have been an accident, unintentional, unconscious with how smoothly it slipped from her fingers, but then again death had always seemed a second nature to Isis. Necessary even. Perhaps she didn't need to enjoy it as much as she did, but she had always believed that to love your profession, your calling, was to truly enjoy life. She never felt more alive than when she made sure someone else, well… wasn't.

It hit the ground; the sound of metal on stone like the beginning of a symphony. The fire followed the spill of oil across the floor, eventually curling around the princess' feet despite how quickly she tried to move away from it. Her dress burned away first, then her hair. Two blinding flashes of light that settled down to a low glow as the flames began to eat away at her skin. Isis smiled and tilted her head to admire the way acrid smoke drifted over the ceiling to slip through hidden vents and drift into the night sky.

Even the smell wasn't so bad. The longer Isis stood there the less she seemed to notice it.

It was the screaming she truly enjoyed, because in the end, no matter how dignified or defiant; they all sounded the same. Like animals. Just look at how this one howled.

The girls' legs gave out after a while, her skin blacked and cracked and her arms still raised from where she had been clawing at her hair. Terrified screams settled into keening moans and with a final pained sigh Milanun fell and ceased to move. She would never move again.

Isis sighed, suddenly happier, more relaxed. And stepping over the charred corpse she didn't even care that the bottom of her dress was getting dirty.

Yes, savoring the little things was important.

A cool breeze of the Nile, a good wine, the sound of screams echoing through midnight air.

 _Today,_ she thought, _was going to be a good day._

 **xXx**

"Shouldn't we stop her?" Carol asked in a whisper as she wiped her hands over the edge of her dress, trying to dispel the sweat that had built up from how nervous she was.

They were already inside, following the princess. Which happened to be the exact opposite of what of what Carol wanted to be doing. If she had her way, they would have been on the other side of the palace pretending that they hadn't seen what they were currently seeing. _As a matter of fact, why hadn't anyone else seen this?_ The princess was clearly unstable and desperate, shaking with every step, stumbling into pillars and bumping into walls. But the shrine was deserted. There was no one but them to notice.

Carol fidgeted, Nefertari's hand was still gripping her upper arm, pulling it at an awkward angle as she failed to keep up with the other woman's hurried pace. It felt as though they had been walking forever, or maybe that was the anticipation. Or the fear.

They were truly inside now, and she watched the princess disappear down a flight of stairs like she knew where she was going. _Always with the stairs._ Therewas something clutched in her left hand, but it was hidden within the folds of her ruined dress, and they were too far away to see it clearly.

Nefertari was breathing heavily, and not from exertion. She was frightened too. But the woman didn't say anything, she simply continued on, her dark eyes wide. With that look Carol knew they weren't going to stop the princess, they were just going to watch her commit a terrible mistake in the same way people would watch a car crash. Full of morbid curiosity and unable to look away.

Her stomach rolled at the thought, and Carol thought she might vomit. But Nefertari was still pulling her along, urging her to hurry, and the ill feeling slipped away.

By the time they snuck into the temples inner chamber the princess was halfway across the floor on silent feet, heading straight towards Isis. Memphis's sister seemed oblivious; her head was bowed as if in prayer and she was chanting words that Carol couldn't understand, but sent terrified shivers down her spine all the same.

There was something else too. Something else about this place that made her throat close up, her limbs shake.

Carol had been here before. She knew the statues that stood tall and foreboding along the corridor and hunched in corners. Recognized the hieroglyphs and paintings that covered the walls. She could still feel the hands that had closed around her arms. Transparent fingers and dark painted eyes that shouldn't have been alive or able to move but they did and… and she remembered all too well how cold the rough pale stone of the sacrificial table had been as it cut into her back. Evie's cries at the flash of a silver dagger.

The table wasn't pale and glistening now. No, it was dark, with a sheen that seemed to absorb the light that flickered from the open flames dancing about the room.

Carol gagged.

Her face a bloodless white, she tore her eyes away from it and back towards the two girls in the middle of the open space, just in time for her nightmare to continue.

Princess Milanun, still trembling, had raised the knife above Isis bared throat. Carol lunged, a scream building; a warning. But the sound didn't make it very far. A hand shot out – not Nefertari's – to wrap around her mouth and stifle her scream, and in her ear a voice, low and panicked.

"Be quiet and _stop moving_." _Evie. It was Evie._ Shocked, the sound cut off as soon as it had started and looking away from the fight still happening, Carol turned accusing eyes to her sister. She shook, her eyes burned, and tears blurred her vision and still she couldn't find anything to say.

Her first instinct was to throw herself forward and curl around Evie like she had done as a child when she was scared. Because Carol was scared. Actually, she wasn't just scared she was downright traumatized. A tear broke free, then two, and then it wasn't long before the dam cracked and a flood broke loose.

Evie wasn't crying, Carol noticed, even as the screaming started and smoke began to billow, curling up and across the ceiling like fog there were no tears. Just a hollow broken expression, like she had seen this before and was no longer moved by it.

"How… how did you know I was here?" Carol gasped, her voice partially hidden by the crackle of flames. Evie's' gaze slid over her shoulder to Nefertari, head shaking slightly in answer to a question Carol hadn't heard, and the young girl was struck quite out of the blue with the thought that she really didn't want to know the answer to that question.

She got one anyway.

Evie's voice was soft, so soft and gentle and pitying, "Who do you think sent Nefertari to get you."

It was like she had been doused with a bucket of cold water, the way this feeling slipped down her spine. Was it anger? Betrayal? Carol though perhaps it was both. She pulled away, not wanting Evie to touch her. But her sister held on harder, she had seen the look on her face and was not moved by it.

"You're lucky I was the only one to see you. Do you understand what they would do to you?"

"I would have made it out, me and Sechi."

"Maybe." Evie agreed, "You probably would have made it down the river, all the way to Thebes to hide." She leaned back to shrug, her gaze moving over Carol's shoulder to where she could still hear screaming and Carol shut her eyes; a burning silhouette was reflected in her sisters own. She watched it fall. "Memphis would have sent guards after you, and they would have caught you. Brought you back here to be made an example of, me as well by association. People like you and me don't get to run away Carol. I don't want us both to die because you can't control your impulses."

"You don't know that," Carol insisted, eyes still closed. "He doesn't care about me, it's always been about you, and you're too afraid to do anything." She stood up and backed away, not wanting to be here anymore. She didn't want to see the callous self-righteous look she knew Evie would be giving her. Evie, who had stood by and watched as someone died. Burned to death. And she didn't cry or care. Nefertari and her sister followed, hands outstretched – to capture or to comfort?

She sobbed, "Stop pretending like you care when you don't!" Carol rubbed at her eyes, trying to stop the tears. "You're selfish. You haven't even looked for a way home. Do you even want to go back?" Her spine straightened, "I don't think you do. Fine, stay here, rot here, die here for all I care, but let me go home."

Evie scoffed, "You don't know anything. We don't even know how we _got_ here, how are we going to get back? I don't know anything about magic or curses or whatever this is. The only one who seems to is Isis, and she certainly won't help." She pointed into the temple, "Go and ask again, see if you get a different answer than when we asked the first time. What I do know is that until we figure this out, we stick together, we lay low, and we stay here."

But Carol wasn't convinced, "I hate it here." She did. The work was hard and the meals meager. Days spent under a hot sun working long hours for nothing. Because she was a slave, because she had too.

It was too much.

"Oh please," Evie hissed, frustrated, "poor little rich girl. You need to learn to pick your battles Carol; for our situation we're in the best possible condition to make it out alive. Shelter, three meals a day, decent protection. Things could be a lot worse. We could have been sold to a brothel, or a private buyer to do who knows what. We could have been sent to one of the construction sites to work until we couldn't stand and whipped when we fell. We have a chance here; all we need to do is wait until we know enough to move forward." By the end Evie didn't sound angry anymore, just resigned and pleading.

 _She's wrong, we could've made it just fine._ "You're wrong."

 _Oh god, she just wanted to go home. Was that really so bad?_ Carol didn't think so.

She spared her sister one last look, and she hoped the repulsion there would bring Evie some shame. She really did, because Carol didn't know who she was looking at anymore.

She ran.


	14. Chapter 12

When faced with a flight or fight situation I had always been the type of girl more likely to flee. There would be no bold last stand, nor would I be particularly brave when the time came to face my end. I wouldn't go down guns blazing, because if it was up to me; I wouldn't go down at all. If the odds weren't in my favor why risk playing? Survival, playing the game. I was good at it; I knew when to move my pieces and when to hold back. It was a trait I wished Carol shared, especially during moments like these where it was achingly clear that she didn't.

In a way I was tired. Tired of chasing after her. Of always having to put her first because she didn't know any better. It was shameful, and something I hated to admit, but I resented her for it. Her absolute and conscious refusal to see things from my point of view. If we had been back home I would have stopped hovering. Let her make her own decisions and damn the consequences because weren't they hers to deal with? She had her brothers, her mother to berate her. But we weren't home.

And every one of my attempts to keep her from doing something she couldn't take back were met with nothing but scorn. As I watched the white fabric of her dress disappear I couldn't help but think that this felt far too familiar.

 **xXx**

 _Memphis was gone. He would be gone for a week inspecting the same construction site we'd been caught at. And whenever her brother was away Isis took the time to play. She'd sent Carol and I, along with an armed guard, to 'pick up some things', but I had the feeling she wanted us to see the public punishment happening in the middle of the square. It had been hot that day. Unbearably so, even for Egypt. The salt from my sweat had stung my eyes, making them water. My first look at what Isis had wanted us to see was blurry and unrefined._

 _I'd heard of the cruelty, studied it even. The practice itself had been dead then. I'd seen it the first day we'd been pulled through time, when Isis had cut out the heart of a man while he screamed. But this was different. This was worse. Living cruelty. That man's screams had died with him, but these showed no sign of stopping._

 _The knuckles of my hands were white, my bones creaking as I struggled to hold back my stupid_ _ **stupid**_ _sister. An arm around her waist and a hand pressed over her mouth as I pulled her away and into the shadows. She fought me, and I could feel her tears against the hand I still held to her face. The guards were watching, they always were. And though thay made no move to follow there was no doubt in my mind that every breath we took, every expression we made was being carefully catologed for Isis to tear apart later._

 _Carol eventually managed to push me off, and the look in her eyes would have shamed me if I had cared. It was a good thing I didn't._

" _Why did you do that? Why did you stop me?" It was also a good thing there was nobody here to hear us. Carol yelling at me would definitely attract attention, just hopefully not the wrong kind of attention. She glared at me, and her eyes were red, "You saw what they were doing to those people. To children."_

 _I scoffed, but the disgust in her eyes was_ _ **painful**_ _. With her free from my grasp, I settled for shoving her further into the shadows, "Because we couldn't stop them. What would you have done Carol? Heroics are all well and good if they actually manage to change things. Having you run in there screaming would have changed nothing but the amount of blood running through your veins."_

 _But Carol just glared._

" _You're a coward."_

 _Lips curling up in a mock smile, I shrugged. "I prefer the term strategic." Facing Carols indignant rage was a far preferable option than the one she was suggesting._

" _But they're people Evie." Her voice was soft and pleading. Like she thought I didn't already know that, like I didn't understand. But I did. I knew that pain, that fear, and it wasn't something I ever wanted to experience again. So I closed my eyes, hardened my heart and cursed my own cruelty._

 _This was not the place, nor the time for gentleness. "They're slaves."_

 _She reared back, her face falling at my blunt tone, "So that makes it alright? You would willingly stand by and watch?" She looked a word away from striking me. I could see her body trembling, her hands clenching. So I stepped closer. Invasive as it was. I lifted my wrists, and the shine of the gilded gold bracelets locked around them was a cold light that reflected in my eyes._

" _Of course, it's not alright," I hissed, my own voice rising. I swallowed hard and hoped she couldn't see me shaking. "But in case you haven't noticed, we're wearing the same chains they are, no matter how pretty ours might be. Same chains, same punishment. I don't like pain Carol. Do you?"_

 _Carol didn't back away again, instead just stubbornly set her chin. "I'm not afraid."_

" _No," I said seriously, "fear is for the living, and dead is what you're setting up to be if you're not careful. I won't always be around to stop you. Your bleeding heart might just keep on bleeding."_

 _She wasn't convinced. "It's not fair," she continued. "this would never have happened back home. It's_ _ **wrong**_ _."_

 _I laughed. I couldn't help it. "We're not at home Carol. We're stuck three thousand years in the past. Now is not the time to argue ethics that won't be considered relevant for a long, long time. It's not like slavery is a new concept. If you want to take a step down from your high horse you'll remember there was slavery where you're from as well, and it wasn't so long ago that that changed." I pressed forward, too far gone to care about shed tears. "Did you ever ask, ever question where mommy and daddy's money came from? I bet you didn't. Because you didn't – and don't – care."_

 _I started to pull her again, towards the palace and away from the desolate outer yard. "You need to grow up or learn to keep your mouth shut. Next time it might be you on the receiving end of a whip."_

" _At least I'm willing to act!" She raged. "Unlike you." She rubbed her eyes, smearing her tears across her cheeks. "If you spend too long waiting you might miss the only chance we have. I hope you won't be too afraid to take it when it finally arrives."_

 **xXx**

She'd run then too, her eyes full of tears and had refused to speak to me for days. It seemed as though Carol was always running from me.

When I turned the next corner, it was with a sigh of relief. We'd reached the outer wall. Tall and imposing, it was the first line of defense for the Pharaohs' palace. One final set of stairs led to a narrow passage at the top – more of a walkway really – where guards were usually posted, overlooking the Nile. The river had begun to flood, the water level had been rising steadily all day. Sirius had risen, another cause for celebration; it was a sign of a soon to be good harvest. Egypt would soon be rich with more than just gold, as the flooding season would last up to two weeks, carrying with it the fertile sediments that would remain as the water receded. The river had grown so much that water now brushed up against the walls polished stone base.

The river aside, this particular passage only had one entrance and ended with a blank stretch of wall. I thought I was going to make it, catch her at the end where there was nowhere else to go and she would cry some more and hate me, and I was alright with that.

My relief was short-lived however, as it soon became clear that while my sister was indeed cornered at that very dead end… it just wasn't by me.

No, not me.

Memphis stood by her side, and I paused, my feet refusing to move despite my better judgment. He was always such a sight. Regal and commanding. The gold and jewels he wore glittered, in much the same way the ones I was wearing did. Jewels he gave me. It was utterly without warning that I found the sparkle that once enraptured me was no longer quite as appealing.

One of his hands was wrapped around her upper arm and his grip was so tight I could see her skin turning red under the pressure. Facing each other I could see nothing but the vague outline of their faces under the glow of the moon. Carol was leaning away from him and small as she was, she hung in his grasp, her feet brushing the ground from where he pulled her to meet his gaze. I could hear her breathing; great heaving gasps, so loud they drowned out whatever it was Memphis was saying.

It was as though my perception of the world had suddenly shifted. I had spent so long only really seeing one side of him. He had been so gentle, almost reserved. The work I had done during the beginning of my stay had dwindled to almost nothing. He indulged my curiosity, seeming to derive great amusement from my love of architecture and history. And he would hold me sometimes – if he could catch me by surprise – and his arms would curl around me as though he thought I might disappear.

The smiles, the charm. All those whispered words and stolen moments. I saw none of that gentleness now.

It was my hesitation that caused what happened next. Impulsiveness may have been Carols' downfall, but this was mine. My greatest failing among many. I could have blinked and missed it. He must have said something to set her off. An insult, or an order. She never did like being told what to do.

I had surged forward at the first sign of movement, true movement, and I was still too slow. They struggled, seemingly oblivious to the sound my footsteps as I rushed towards them, and I could only watch as they moved closer to the edge.

I called her name. Breathless as I was, I knew they both heard me. Memphis' tensed and his head turned. There was surprise in his eyes, worry, frustration. And in his distraction his grip loosened just enough to matter.

It was like moving through sand. Every second an hour. And just when I thought I was close enough to brush his robe or grab at Carols' dress did I realize it had already slipped through my fingers.

Snatching the opportunity my arrival presented, Carol had finally managed to free her arm, or perhaps it was that Memphis had finally let go. Either way, the result was disastrous. She had pulled too hard, too suddenly, and she stumbled. Back and over the low edge of the wall, headfirst into the Nile. She met my eyes as she tipped over the ledge and fell. She screamed, or maybe I did. My ears were ringing, and the sound of my own heartbeat was so loud it was difficult to ascertain anything beyond it. I lunged, completely prepared to follow her into the water.

I only made it half over. Memphis grabbed me, his arms circling my waist in his panicked attempt to stop me. And although he managed to keep me from going over, he couldn't stop my momentum. I gasped as my torso pitched forward, slamming into stone with enough force to steal the breath from my lungs and leave me lying stunned atop the railing. With my head hanging over the edge I would see the ripples from where Carol had landed.

But I couldn't see her.

I moaned in pain and struggled to pull air into my body as I frantically swept my gaze over the dark river. Memphis was at my back, tugging me away from the ledge and holding me tight to his chest as though he thought I was going to try and jump again if he let go. I wasn't. I could barely focus; the ground beneath my feet was swaying, my ears were still ringing, and his arms were the only thing currently keeping me upright as my legs had long since ceased to be able to hold me. _This couldn't be happening._ He was saying something. It echoed and faded, the only proof he was actually speaking was the breeze his breath created as it brushed passed the shell of my ear and ruffled my hair. At my lack of response, he turned me around to face him and I could see his lips forming my name.

I wanted to answer him, truly I did, but I still couldn't breathe and the edge of my vision was slowly fading to black. I didn't have the energy to fight it.


	15. Chapter 13

A/N

I typed up a long chapter for everyone who was a little disappointed by how short the last one was. Let me know what you think.

 **xXx**

Memphis was panicking. Eyes wide, fingers digging into my arm with enough force to bruise, his nails tearing at my skin once, twice as his hand slipped and he had to reach out to stop me from tripping over the edge along with my mind.

Distantly, some small detached part of me thought that his reaction was rather unfair. Where I was numb keening shock, he was quick paced action. Ready to help, to do something – anything to right the wrong that had just happened. _Shouldn't that be me?_ He was still calling my name, over and over because I couldn't hear him. I couldn't have answered even if I had wanted to.

My skin felt cold, my limbs like lead, and I could hardly concentrate over the sound of someone _screaming_. For a second, I thought it was Carol – that it was the same terrified sound she had made as she tumbled off the ledge, one I was sure would haunt me. It was only after the stinging pain of Memphis' hand crossing my cheek did I realize the sound had been coming from me, loud and unending and out of control.

I stopped, choking on it as the pain brought with it a startling moment of clarity. One where I could fight off the irrationality and breathe and think, just for a second, that it was going to be okay, that the fall hadn't been high enough to kill her on impact and she knew how to swim, so all I had to do was follow the current and she'd be there. But it was still just a moment, and I was reluctant to fight against the other emotions that were currently threatening to drown me.

 _Just like Carol probably - most likely - was._

" _Evelyn."_

Warm breath was puffing against the side of my neck, ragged and shallow. The press of his jewelry on my flushed skin was cold and I shook against him, tremors I couldn't make stop no matter how hard I tried. He was dragging me away from where Carol had fallen, unrelenting in his grip about my waist. But I wasn't moving, I didn't want to. I struggled against him, trying in vain to dig my heels into flat stone, to look over the edge again for a flash of blonde hair I knew I wouldn't see. _I knew I wouldn't see._ _**I knew. I knew. I knew.**_

Not once had she broken the surface, or come up for air, not once. The water wasn't shallow enough to have sent her crashing to the bottom, not with how quickly the Nile had begun to flood, and the current while strong, was not debilitating.

 _She had wanted to go home. Oh god._ More than anything, more than I myself had wanted too. She would either be found further down the river… or she wouldn't be found at all.My stomach rolled at the admission and I bit back a gag. It was all my fault, Ryan had been telling me for years how… delicate Carol was. Or was it temperamental? My mind wandered again to the fits she would throw, to the one that got us here.

Memphis turned me to face him, a hand tangling in the hair at the back of my neck as he tilted my head to look into my red-rimmed eyes. "Evelyn, we will find her."

He sounded so concerned and desperate it was almost sweet. His hand at the back of my head was gentle, fingers massaging my scalp in small circles that eased my nerves and left me a limp, sad, sobbing mess. It was nice I supposed, and it was so unlike him. Although to claim I knew him at all was a stretch within itself.

Either way, I was suddenly exhausted, and my struggles tapered off to quiet compliance. He sighed, a great burst of air that ruffled my hair and brushed a knuckle against my cheek, wiping away a tear. My absolute lack of composure had clearly thrown him for a loop, enough so that his usually abrasive personality had all but vanished, leaving something altogether softer in its place. It was a nice change, and I spent a dazed second looking at him in utter disbelief. I wanted to reach out and touch him, to see if maybe he felt different, for he certainly looked the same. It was just too difficult to believe that such a strong shift of character in so short a time wouldn't leave a visible mark.

Eventually frustrated, he batted my hand away from where I had just begun to brush the pads of my fingers against his jaw and swung my unresponsive body up into his arms to begin walking, practically running away from where we had last seen my sister standing. The soldiers that were posted around the perimeter, as well as the pharaohs own guards, they had all heard me screaming. I was sure the entire city had heard me. They stood at the base of the stairs, poised to run up at the first sign of danger. But the steps were narrow, only fitting one at a time.

So, it came as no surprise the chaos that followed the moment they caught sight of their Pharaoh racing towards them. They scrambled to move back down the steps, tripping over capes and shouting out words of concern which were promptly ignored. Memphis yelled something I couldn't hear over how loud my ears were ringing, and with a tired sigh I settled in to rest my head beneath his chin, completely uncaring of the tears that stained the silk of his robe.

Whatever he said, every armored man jumped to attention and within the next few moments had vanished as quickly as they had appeared. His chest vibrated with the force of his breath, and the press of his ribs on mine as they expanded was as soothing as it was strange.

Our way cleared, and the hallway was empty. It took what felt like only minutes before I was gently placed atop something soft and comfortable. But I only sobbed harder. I didn't deserve to be comfortable, it felt a cruel thing to be when ones' sister was most likely dead, dying or something else entirely. Whatever it was, it gave under my weight, and as I curled my legs up to bury my face, to hide – _because damn it, I couldn't stop crying_ – large calloused fingers wrapped around the dip of knees to tug them back down. The heat of his hands seeped through the thin fabric of my dress, sinking into my skin.

The fact that it was more than a little comforting was a thought I would dissect later. Or never.

Hopelessness was not a feeling I was unfamiliar with, neither was fear or anger or pain. It wasn't so much that I couldn't handle these emotions, but that I was suffocating under all of them at once. Knowing there was nothing I could do, knowing it was my fault… I was angry at myself for pushing Carol away. At Memphis for unintentionally pushing her over the edge. At Isis for being the thing that had sent us here in the first place.

I cursed everything.

Memphis didn't shy away from my emotional outpour. He wasn't dismissive or cruel or uncomfortable. He just held me, hands never straying from their appropriate positions, and whispered soft nothings into my hair. I could hear his heart beating from where he had pressed one of my cheeks against his chest, feel it expand as he breathed.

"It's alright," he whispered. "You're going to be alright."

 **xXx**

Isis had seen them run down the hall. Disappearing from her view as they swept up the steps and out of her temple. Unable to resist, Isis had trailed them, wiping soot from her hands and onto her dress, stepping over the smoldering corpse without another thought. She had watched as Carol ran heedlessly past her brothers' patrol, going as far as to ignore his order for her to stop. She had seen the glitter of tears in the other girls' eyes, dripping off of her chin like a flood to stain the sand-dusted tiles at her feet. Slipping through shadows, she was there before either of them, settling back against the wall of the dead-end walkway to enjoy the show.

Memphis had caught Carol about halfway to her hiding spot, his hand wrapping around her arm, and Isis's irritation with being too far away to hear anything warred with her desire to stay out sight as her eyes followed the sway of his hair and the curve of his shoulders. He was facing her, and in the dim light of flickering torches his eyes seemed dark and pitted. For a moment she thought his grip on the other girl was enough to bruise, and the look in his gaze was meant to sear and Isis could feel her heart swell, vindictive, after having felt for so long that she was second best, disfavored, unwanted. Finally, one of them would face the cruelty she so admired in her brother. Even if it wasn't Evelyn. But she could wait, and she would watch, and that would have to be enough.

 _Was it enough?_ The longer Isis stood there, the more she wanted to step forward and _shake him_ because he wasn't cruel or uncaring, his fingers weren't claws and his eyes weren't burning. All his sharp edges were worn smooth and where Isis had hoped for harsh words she saw only pleading.

And when that insipid little creature pulled free only to tumble over the edge and into the rising river below, Isis couldn't even find it in herself to be pleased.

Not even when the screaming started.

Which of course brought her to where she was now. Outside of his rooms while he was inside them, with _her_.

To add insult to injury, it was hours before Memphis came out, and for the life of her, no matter how hard she tried, Isis couldn't hear anything that was happening in his chambers. She paced and paced, and the sound of her shoes was loud in the stifling silence of the empty hall, the soldiers on either side of his door might as well have been statutes with how adamantly they refused to meet her gaze.

When he finally stepped out of his rooms it was with an altogether disheveled air. His hair was mussed as though he had been dragging his hands through it, and his eyes were fever-bright and unfocused. Isis watched him look back into the darkened room, _and she hurt_ because he looked at something she couldn't see with the sort of intense longing she had always wished was directed at her.

She couldn't breathe, and he hadn't noticed her yet.

"Memphis." Soft, barely there.

She swallowed down the terrible feeling crawling up her throat and reached out to brush her hand over his. He was so warm, and as Isis curled her fingers around his own - a parody of holding his hand - to pull him towards her, she could imagine for a moment that he was actually holding her back.

He stilled under her touch, muscles tensing in a way that conveyed unease – but that couldn't be true, couldn't be what was happening. So, she smiled and said his name again; less beseeching this time, more confident, and she kept smiling even as her brother, who she loved more than anything, more than life, looked through her. _Never at her._

"It is for the best." And Isis believed that. She just wasn't sure he did.

It was a sad thing that that was what woke him up. Warm hand slipping from hers, he took a step back and it was one step too many. He snapped at her, telling her to back off, moving to stand between her and the door like he wanted to protect what was in there. Like she was a threat. Taking a peek over his shoulder, the vague outline of Evie was visible. Sad and small and curled into herself, the gold of her hair spilling over the pillows on his bed.

Isis stopped smiling, "Don't pretend, don't make excuses." Voice low, she twined a lock of his hair around her fingers and pulled. He didn't even wince. "You wanted this to happen. You wanted her out of the way, you wanted to be the hero."

"Tell me, did Carol slip and fall or did you just let go?"

He reared back like she had struck him, but his face was oh so carefully blank. And when he turned to stalk down the hallway, away from her, Isis fought the urge to scream. But she tempered it, shoved it aside and turned her eyes back to the crumpled figure sleeping in her brothers' room.

At least Carol was gone. That was something. That was a start.

 _One down, one to go._

 **xXx**

Weeks had gone by and I was miserable. Memphis had all but disappeared the day after Carol's accident, and as days came and went my hope of his searching the Nile for her had diminished.

I had asked around at first, prodding at the other servants, the general, the guards, even Isis when it became clear no one else was going to give me a clear answer. She had grinned; that empty half-grin I had seen so often during the time she had stayed with us in our time, in our home. That smile that tried so hard to be innocent, offering no hint to the real emotions and thoughts running through her mind.

Her explanation had been simple, something about a pharaohs duty when it came to overseeing the many temples and shrines being built in his name to honor their gods. She had said other things. She actually said quite a lot, but I had stopped listening a quarter of the way through, my ears ringing, eyes wide with incredulity.

"We'll be sending you to an understaffed site further down the river," At my horrified look she had only grinned wider, a flash of sharp white teeth against dark skin, "Just while he's gone, just for a while. You understand, don't you? How important this is?"

I didn't understand, I didn't care too, and the cold chill slipping down my spine was all the wake-up call I needed to realize that Isis was taking advantage of the fact her brother was too busy to watch over me the way he had been before. The way I had gotten used too.

Vulnerability hit me like it hadn't since I had first come here, dragged out of the Nile and gasping around the water spilling from my lungs. I was suddenly, painfully aware of the fact that I was alone here, a place I had no rights, no worth, no options. _No Carol_. I wanted to back away, shrink in on myself and hide and not have to face the malicious, gleeful cruelty I could see in Isis' gaze, all of it directed towards me. But backing down meant giving up and letting her _win_. And I hated her too much to let that happen.

She cast her eyes over my wrinkled form, lingering on the gold that glittered around my throat with an air of absolute loathing, "You will be given new clothes of course, as well as all the other slaves being sent to the site with you, and you will work, as you are told to work until the time you are called back to the palace."

 _If you are._

The threat, while left unsaid, was undeniably clear and the beat of my heart inside my chest was loud and demanding. She made no mention of the search for Carol, which while infrequent and small in number had continued at my behest. They would stop, I knew, once I was no longer in the palace, and the thought of her would fade from everyone's memory but mine. _You can't do this,_ I wanted to scream it to anyone who would listen, and maybe I actually said it out loud, but I wasn't sure, and I didn't need to hear Isis laugh to know that _of course she could._

Some tiny hopeful, unrealistic, _damned_ part of me whispered that I wouldn't be there for long, that Memphis would come get me eventually, he would.

Wouldn't he?

But days had gone by, then a week, and then another, and that small part of me withered under the strain. The hope was just so hard to hold on to. The days were so long, spent under a blistering sun with no room to pause for breath or think between the tasks set for us. Sand was everywhere, coating my skin, my hair, settling into my lungs. Everyone around me shared the same empty broken look, all bent shoulders and heavy steps, hardly alive.

And all of us constantly watched by the leering, grasping, hateful men sent by the crown – Isis no doubt – to keep us motivated and moving, and every single one of them had thick coiled strips of leather clutched tightly in their hands. There were days I swore they would never be able to wash out all the blood.

The threat of the whip was an ever-present concern, and there had been several instances where the sting and slide of blood across my shoulder was the only thing that kept me going. Morning was coming, along with another day of hard labor, and for all that I knew I needed it, I just couldn't find it in me to sleep. The air inside the cave we were all herded into to sleep was humid and musty, and every breath was like drinking water. A sharp contrast to the acrid state of the air outside, even when the setting sun brought with it cooler temperatures. It left all of us perpetually uncomfortable and desperate.

As I lay there every unconscious movement brought me into contact with another person, the brush of someone's shoulders against my own, breath ghosting over my skin, a current pushing around stale air. I had long gotten used to the smell of so many of us shoved together, it clung to me as much as it did to any other. It was stifling. Inhumane.

It was my reality.

And as dawn broke and I was shaken out of my pondering and rose to face the day with that same crushed feeling as I had faced it the day before, I swore to myself that I wouldn't feel this way forever. That I was better than breaking under pain, or the threat of it. That I had faced worse things. It was a lie and a prayer all at once.

"Stop dreaming, pay attention," A man, thin as we all were, placed a heavy hand on my arm and tilted his head to a shaded overhang, "They're watching."

They were. Soulless eyes watching our every move.

Weak as I was in terms of manual labor, I had once again been ordered into carting water, back and forth all day long under a burning sun with only one day off to look forward too. There had been a stream, a small one, that provided refreshment to the workers here. It had long since dried up to nothing but sand. Water was imported now, in great clay jars that were set up all in a row, stamped with a wax seal and left for me and a few others to crack open each morning.

This particular morning was my day back after twenty-four hours of being in an exhaustion-fueled coma and I found the water to be of terrible quality, and as I opened case after case, I became only increasingly more worried. It was, to put things lightly, disgusting. And as I dragged my gaze over the empty jars already cast aside and then around me to take in the many numbers of pallid-faced workers, I couldn't help but feel suddenly sick myself. The water was dark and filmy, a layer of I don't know what having settled over the top. To even look at it was like contracting whatever disease it most likely carried within it.

In less than five minutes I had searched out another slave, a person that dare I say it, had become almost like a friend in the weeks I had been stuck here. Soon after my initial arrival to the camp, it had become very obvious to me that I was avoided by most of the others. I'd heard whispers, and the occasional whisper of my name alongside the pharaohs was all I had needed to piece together why all the others were keeping their distance.

However, it wasn't until Unasu approached me that my suspicions were confirmed. I had been sitting alone during the evening meal, all too aware of the eyes piercing my back and all too aware of the fact that I was sitting alone despite the apparent fame I mysteriously seemed to have. He sat himself down, unannounced and without fanfare, jumping into a conversation I hadn't remembered starting and answering a question I couldn't recall having asked out loud.

"We all know who you are, with that hair and those eyes we could hardly mistake you for anyone else. What a thing you must be that word of you had reached even here, to this hell."

"No," he hummed, "what people really want to know is why you, of all people, are in a place like this. Some think you're a spy," he had whispered conspiratorially and bumped his shoulder against mine, surprising me and sending the bowl of soup I had been nursing to the ground. He was wholly unaffected, "Sent by our gracious pharaoh to judge our work and route out dissent." His eyes swept over me, over the rough clothing covered by a layer of sand, the unkempt hair, the hollow eyes. "Yet more still believe that you lost his favor and were sent here to die forgotten."

He paused, and then gently, "Care to tell me which it was?"

At first, I had been insulted and a little afraid of what he had said. Afraid because what a thing indeed that everyone knew my name, my business with Memphis – though in reality that business was practically nonexistent – and insulted because everyone apparently had something to say about it. After a minute however, those feelings faded, and I was despairingly caught up into the first conversation I had had all day. I simply couldn't help myself.

"Neither," I told him, and despite his best efforts it was all I had been willing to say on the matter.

Unasu had certainly worked his way into my routine since that initial encounter, quick to offer assistance in a harsh world and just as quick to smile. I had the rising suspicion that he had sensed my vulnerability that day and latched onto it, though for the life of me I couldn't figure out why. There was no motive, no action taken, untoward or otherwise in regard to my person. At the end of the day and under much scrutiny, it honestly appeared as though he had been simply looking for companionship.

I couldn't yet say if my giving into that idea in particular was beneficial or not.

"Unasu," I grabbed his arm, and uncaring of the sweat and dirt that covered his skin pulled him carefully away from where he had been mining stone and back to the untouched water, "Look at this. Is this really the drinking water? People have been drinking this since yesterday?"

At his confused nod, I swore, "Utterly ridiculous, and everyone's been drinking this. No wonder they all look so horrible. We need to tell someone about this, one of the overseers or the quarry manager. Someone."

In a fit I turned, ready to give whoever was in charge a piece of my mind. It was simply cruel, unfair as so much of life seemed to be. It was too much. It was almost as though I had come to a breaking point, I was so unbelievably angry over what I would later look upon to be a rather small thing. Really what could I have been expecting? Slaves were expendable and not in short supply, it was not unusual that their needs were consciously overlooked. Selfishly, painfully, my ire came simply from that I was now counted amongst that number.

Unasu had a different idea however and bade me to control my temper. "A quarter of us have been infected already, with more on the way. If we go spreading the word we will be quarantined, and then be left here to starve until the epidemic dies out." He gripped my hand as he spoke, the sheer certainty of his tone a reminder to the very same lesson I had listened to so long ago in an air-conditioned classroom. "Unclean water will be the least of our problems if that happens."

There was logic in his statement and with the confirmation from my future knowledge that yes, what he said was a definite outcome, I acquiesced begrudgingly, my frustration clear. I sighed, my chest heaving once from a great intake of air.

"Just because we're not going to say anything doesn't mean we can't try to do anything about it ourselves."

Not wanting to waste another moment I roped him and a few others into building a rough sort of water filter away from the probing eyes of our keepers. Unasu, although unsure of what exactly it was I was attempting had decided to humor me, and though the thought of doubt stung, I was not entirely ungrateful for his support. Especially since I could prove it to be a wise decision.

Layered with sand, charcoal and loose stone, it was honestly the best I could do under the circumstances. With a warning that all water should be boiled before consumption, I set about showing them how it worked, and with their help built several more in record time.

At first, they seemed skeptical, but I chalked that up to the fact none of them seemed to know what I was doing. After a minute of straining and with some help, I managed to lift one of the containers and pour out a steady stream of tepid brown. There was a certain level of satisfaction in being able to watch that same dirty water disappear and eventually spill from the bottom completely clear, and hopefully less diseased.

Within two hours every case was opened emptied and refilled, the water was clean, and I had a crowd of grateful workers pressing in on every side. But with eyes ever watching, their thanks were cut short as work began again. The whispers I had heard my first day here were once more a recurring factor, filtering through my ears at odd intervals as I dragged my feet through sand. But this time around, my name was mentioned in a much more positive light.

 _What a change._

Unasu, who had stuck by me with a soft sort of grin on his face, gave me a playful shove, "Daughter of the Nile indeed." He nodded his head towards the now purified drinking water. "Your reputation proves true, you are truly a gift to Egypt. It's no wonder word of you has spread so far. You are so utterly and completely intriguing."

I blinked, a bit confused and honestly a little worried, "What?" But he just waved me away along with my concerns, a small secretive smile on his face.

 _Right._ I sighed.

 **xXx**

More than a month had passed before Memphis finally rode into the quarry, a host of soldiers behind him. The thunder of hoof beats could be heard a mile off, and the cloud of sand that they kicked up was like a wall heading towards us. I had been back in the cave we all slept in, ferrying a man whose leg had been caught under a huge slab of stone. His future wasn't promising, and I walked out to the sound of my name being called with blood on my palms, streaking the tattered dress that clung to my frame.

He swept through the camp with all the regal air I had come to expect from him, covered in rich fabrics and glittering with gold. His eyes swept over me twice before the glimmer of the sun against my hair caught his attention. I don't think he would have recognized me otherwise.

Then he breathed my name, said it so reverently, so full of an emotion I couldn't – wouldn't – name, said it so softly I almost couldn't catch it. But I did, and the hard pound of my heart at the thought that finally, he was here, warred with the fact that I was here in the first place.

I had been angry, at first. Hurt too, late at night when sleep was so very far from my reach and there was nothing but my thoughts left to haunt me. A part of me whispered that he let Isis do this to me, let her send me away, torment me, abuse me and so many others. I believed he had known and hadn't cared. Yet under his stare it was suddenly so hard to keep ahold of that anger. The way he looked at me, as if he regretted so much, and the relief that outshone that regret. The sheer force of so many painful emotions all pinned at me.

No, I wasn't so angry anymore.

Down from his horse and in front of me before I could blink, he took my hands in his with a grip that was surprisingly gentle. I could feel the scrape of his calloused fingers on my own, the weight of them, and the expression that crossed my face was guarded and plaintive, full of silent questions I was too afraid to ask but still desperately wanted answers to.

So I waited, simply looking, and was quietly thrilled when he crumbled under my stare.

"I did not think she would take it this far."

The explanation I had been expecting, but not the one I wanted. Not at all. A quick glance around confirmed that Memphis soldiers had cleared the area, not even Unasu, whose clingy presence was one I had come to expect, was here to witness our rather private conversation. One of his hands shifted, sliding up my arm to cup my cheek, heedless of the dirt that no doubt stained me from head to toe. His thumb rubbed soothingly across my cheekbone and I sighed, "Where were you then?"

There was no scorn despite the low burning I felt tugging at my heart, but I still had to ask, had to know, because I certainly didn't understand. A month. A whole month I had been here, with less than a word from him. It had been as though he had disappeared as completely as Carol seemed to. If I had thought Memphis might balk at my question, I was wrong. His brow furrowed, his shoulders straightened and the dark of his eyes was painful, but he didn't back down.

Instead he stepped closer, and clutching me about the waist he whispered, "There was so much to prepare and to finalize. I refused to waste a single moment. You were still sleeping… and I had left orders with Minue to keep you safe and content until all was sorted." I watched with rapt attention as his entire countenance clouded, a storm of cold rage settling over him like a shroud, "He wasn't watching as closely as he should have. Isis got to you, right under his nose, and he waited too long to tell me. What she had done to you, where you were. A mistake he'll pay for I swear." And then Memphis crushed me to his chest, head buried in my hair and his voice was a despondent breeze that shuddered and swept over my neck.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry it took me so long. But everything is going to be all right now, because everything is ready, and I am going to take care of you just as I promised."

Trapped in his hold, arms pinned between us and thoroughly distracted by how deliciously meltingly warm he was – a complete contrast to the cold I had been feeling ever since I had come here, it shamed me to admit it took a moment longer than usual to catch up to what he was saying. _What?_ I might have mumbled it, gasped it against the skin of shoulder, but he was too far gone to hear me. To consumed by his feelings to notice mine spiraling out of control.

His lips pressed to the shell of my ear. "Just as we promised."

 **xXx**

" _You're going to be alright."_

 _So soft, so altogether slight was his touch upon my hair, so soothing, that I didn't notice I had stopped crying until he wiped away all that was left of them. I clutched at him, at the stability he offered, at the comfort he was willing to provide. And even though I couldn't bring myself to fully believe him – I mean how could this, in any way, turn out alright? – my heart rate slowed, and I sank, ever so haltingly into that tired state of exhaustion you only really experience after a good cry with remarkable ease._

 _He had me wrapped up in blankets and cocooned between his bent knees, the side of my face pressed firmly to his torso. He held me while I shivered and gasped, pulling in one great heaping lungful of air after another into my body in an effort to get my head to stop spinning. It wasn't working, and there in the relative safety of Memphis' rooms, held so tightly I couldn't tell where I ended and he began, I said what I knew was without a doubt painstakingly true._

" _We're not going to find her."_ _ **We.**_ _As if I was included, as if I had a chance. There was nothing to find and it would only be a matter of time before they realized that like I had._

 _There was that moment of blind panic, where my heart dropped, and my throat closed up because I realized that I was alone. Just me. Here. With people who viewed me as property. Wrapped in chains that were too pretty to be called such but were chains all the same._

 _What was I going to do?_

 _With Carol here I had been strong, of course I had. She needed me, and when I had her to worry about it meant I had something to focus on, something other than the fact that I was once again trapped and at the mercy of someone else whims. I'd never told, had never wanted to tell exactly just how I had ended up hiding in and stealing food from the Lido's excavation site. It wasn't a particularly nice story. And here I was again, in a situation all too reminiscent of the one I tried so hard to keep locked away._ _ **I hated this.**_ _I was just as painfully out of depth as I had been the first time, stumbling blindly in the dark. Shadowed and traumatizing memories merging with new ones to make it seem as though I was stuck in a never-ending nightmare and I just didn't want to be here alone. Facing off against Isis, against_ _ **him**_ _._

 _ **Adapt or die.**_ _A small slippery part of my mind told me,_ _ **and maybe, just maybe you'll make it out of this whole thing still in one piece.**_ _Easier said than done though wasn't it? I wasn't thinking this through. I was too emotional, too overwhelmed and shocked by what had just happened to make any sound decisions. That didn't stop me from making them however._

 _And just like that, everything changed._

 _I felt rather than saw him stiffen. The muscled arms around me going still, that sudden cautious shift of his entire body, the pound of blood underneath my ear._

" _Of course, we will find her. Evelyn you have to know that." I had to admire his insistence, his absolute determination. But it still didn't feel like enough. I kept pushing, wanting more, wanting something concrete._

" _No," I whimpered, and it was small and pitiful, "you'll stop looking. And as time goes by, you'll stop caring. The loss of a single slave is no great concern. After all, what is one death when mixed with thousands? Easy to replace, easy to forget about." A pause, and then, "How easily will you forget about me, Memphis, when I am no longer obedient or interesting or useful? No longer your concern." I was sour and bitter, spitting poison. I turned to look at him, wanting to watch as he lied to me, "My worth not my own to dictate or decide. Not mine, but yours."_

 _I was raging I knew, but I just couldn't stop, "You'll let me drift away as readily as you let Carol slip from your grasp." Bold as it was, perhaps even_ _overly presumptuous and bordering on insolent. I kept going. I didn't care._

" _I'd rather you kill me than continue to play these games."_

 _How quickly I gave in to self-destruction._

 _He gaped at me, unable to follow my train of thought or understand where I was coming from. But rather than shoving me away as I had expected him to do, he tugged me ever closer. He gasped and pleaded, begged and bartered, eventually seeing the path I was on and making moves to get me off it._

" _Never," he swore, and he spun me, sliding my legs around either side of his waist until we were facing each other, hands on my thighs to keep me there, "Never. You are worth_ _ **everything**_ _. You're mine, mine to care for and protect and I would do anything to prove that. But you must let me! What can I do, what can I give you that is within my power to do so?"_

 _It was easy really, something he could have – should have – guessed._

" _Set me free."_

 _He stopped, that frantic fevered gleam fading ever so slightly from his eyes as he looked into my own, "No."_

" _Yes," I hissed, "free me. Let me go. I saved your life, give me mine in return. Give me back the rights you so callously stole from me, the power to decide my own fate without the fear of reprimand, or give me Carol." Now I was the one pleading._

" _You're mine," he said again, and this time there was no room for rebuff. It was a statement, an absolute fact._

" _Not willingly."_

 _He pulled away, and his dark eyes bore into my own with an intensity I wasn't expecting. He swallowed, "I will find your sister."_

" _I don't believe you."_

 _All my cards were on the table. It was honestly a little terrifying, and there was a second where I thought he would see through me, at what I was trying to do. What I was in a way encouraging._

 _I wasn't stupid or naïve, I saw the way he looked at me, had guessed at what it meant, and had squashed and stampeded and beaten the small part of me that preened at his attention. But that part of me was still there, right under the surface. And it hurt to know that I enjoyed the bone-aching want I saw in his eyes, and it hurt more still to know that more often than not, it was reflected. That I was willing to set so much on the foundation of such a dangerous thing…_

 _Self-destructive indeed._

 _But the ball had already started to roll, and nothing I could do was going to stop it now._

" _I will not let you go," he managed to keep the severity of that statement out of his voice, as if to soften the blow he knew it delivered. "Not now, not ever. But I can take care of you, provide for you, respect you,_ _ **worship you**_ _if you'd let me. You would be no man's lesser, my equal in almost every way. Not a slave but divinity."_

 _One hand moved, blazing a path up my left leg and over the dip of my waist to settle, fingers spread, along the expanse of my ribs. Like he was preparing to grab at my heart. Maybe rip it out completely._

" _All of Egypt will bow at your feet, and the only thing you need to do is promise that you will be mine, willingly." Before I could think of an appropriate answer or think at all, he moved forward, close enough to brush his lips over mine in a way that made me forget how to breath. "Do so and I promise, I swear that it will only ever be you."_

" _Only you."_

 **xXx**

How could a girl say no to that?


	16. Chapter 14

A/N

Just a quick note guys, I promise.

I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while, it's exam season. But I wrote up a long chapter, and for the first time ever: Memphis's POV. Are you as excited as I am terrified?

Tell me what you think. As with any writer reviews are welcome. They are downright encouraged. And they make me so happy.

Yeah, I'm shameless.

 **xXx**

Memphis was tired. The kind of tired that went deeper than just skin-deep. It sank into his bones and settled there with surprising ease and no notice. And as quickly as it came, he knew it would be so much harder to get rid of it. He hadn't always felt like this; there had been days before, spent under the sun, privileged and pampered and wanting for nothing, completely content to watch the way light shimmered against the cool blue waters of the Nile. But that was before. Before his father died, before a responsibility he had been raised to take but wasn't ready for was suddenly his. Without warning or ceremony, but his all the same.

He felt as though he had been pharaoh for a long time. In terms of years, from a subjective point of view, he had hardly been a leader, truly, for any amount of the days, weeks, months that he had worn his crown. The same crown his father had worn before him, and, had worn better.

There were just so many expectations now. So many rules. A reputation to uphold, a kingdom to look after. And though he hated to admit it, there was many a day he wished it hadn't fallen to him at all. Not because he couldn't handle the responsibility, not because he shirked away from his duty and all that came with it, not even because he missed the freedom he had so carelessly squandered. _All those days spent under a blue sky, blue just like her eyes._

No, it was because of things like this. He really didn't want to do this. But anger had a way of overriding regret.

"You understand what this means, don't you?"

He hoped so, gods how he hoped so, because as his shout echoed around the empty hall he couldn't help but feel that the other man didn't look like he understood at all. There was regret certainly, trepidation was written there on his face plain as day, there was even shame. But no fear. And it may damn him, but fear was what Memphis wanted. "What you almost cost me?"

The sound of shattering glass was loud in the silence following his questions; a bottle of wine breaking at his feet, spilling to stain his robes, and in the shadows cast by the light still fading from a dying sun it looked like blood.

"Tell me, my esteemed general, what exactly it was that drove you, so blatantly and without care, to disobey me?" But Memphis wasn't looking for an answer, and if one had been given it wouldn't have mattered. He already knew, had gone over every excuse that might have been made, and cared for none of them. Minues' head bowed further if that was possible, touching the floor. The only part of him that moved.

Pacing and agitated beyond measure, Memphis would later admit that this was not a shining moment for him. But at that particular moment, it was impossible to find the energy to care. He had torn the room apart. Tables and chairs reduced to splinters, glass vases and bottles destroyed and still it wasn't enough.

How to explain it? This feeling; like there had been a hole, one he had had for as long as he could remember but never realized it was there. Not until there was something to fill it, and he was complete in a way he hadn't thought possible. He reveled in it even as it ripped him to pieces.

He couldn't pinpoint the exact expression, action, or occasion that had… endeared Evelyn to him so quickly and so utterly without reason. It was beyond him what had cemented his affections. But there was no doubt they were there, solid, unwavering, _painful._ It had started he knew, when she had saved his life. By all other odds an impossible feat, against a poison that had no known cure, known to no one but her. The cure alone had made her valuable, and the time spent by his bedside with her smiles, her eyes, just _her_ , had made her invaluable.

He had dreamed of Evelyn for weeks while he suffered, the sound of her voice his only anchor while he drifted. She read to him, talked to him, gave words of comfort and encouragement in equal measure. He remembered, so clearly, the feel of her. The way her hand had brushed through his hair, against his skin. So gentle. A soothing balm compared to the burn of the fever that had been reluctant to leave him. She had been caring, she had _cared_ about him, and not out of duty as he had come to expect from all under his employ but because she could, and she did.

In the wake of his recovery, when he was too weak to do much at all and too exhausted to try, he had seen an altogether different side to the girl he had grabbed on a whim. In charge of his health and wellbeing, she had taken to that role of authority with surprising vigor and no small amount of satisfaction.

It was as though she had simply been waiting for the moment she could boss him around, stepping into the spot as it opened. Always quick to reprimand anything that went against her orders, he was often the subject of her ire. It was amusing, the lengths she would go to get him to listen, even going as far as to try and physically restrain him if she thought he was overexerting himself in a way she deemed counterproductive. A mouse standing up to a lion.

He found himself enjoying the challenge she presented, the wit and humor she displayed to him in his weakened state. Memphis thought perhaps the reason she had opened up had been because he had seemed so much less intimidating, all his demands and orders overshadowed by the fact that he was sick and was resentful to the point of childishness over that very thing.

She had charmed nearly everyone, and they all obeyed almost without question. He was entirely outmatched. _Who would listen to him if his every request was ill made and detrimental in regard to his recovery?_ She asked him. No one. No guard, priest or servant. Not when she was always so close, all logic and facts. Pretty words delivered under the stare of her pretty eyes.

She had begun to treat him like she treated, well, everyone else. No longer was he the terrible king holding her against her will, but a man. Injured. Dying. And she was too compassionate to watch.

Memphis had never been more grateful for the weakness.

She had become routine after a while. Her presence in his rooms, the weight of her hand on his forehead, fingers running through his hair. The sound of her voice, her laugh, that small, warm nameless feeling that came from knowing he was the one that had caused it. It was so utterly and wholly different than any other relationship he had, the kind that he had dreamed of having as a child, watching his own parents and wanting to be as happy as they were.

For a while, once he was grown enough to understand that what you wanted wasn't always what you might get, that dream had been shattered. Life was hard, often cruel, and with the death of his mother, the world hadn't seemed like the sort of place anyone truly got to be happy.

But he had been a prince then, and now he was pharaoh. What he wanted was already his, all he had to do was keep it that way. By any means necessary.

Memphis was no fool. Evelyn had been faced with a difficult decision the afternoon he had been dragged half-conscious into his quarters and laid out on his bed. He knew the easier thing, maybe even the smarter thing would have been for her to let him die. She and her sister could have fled the palace during the chaos that followed his accident, the only person interested in keeping them there very much unable to do anything about it should they slip out the door and vanish. Yet here he was; breathing, the beat of his heart in his chest strong as ever. And here she was; most decidedly not free.

Afterward, he tried to convince himself that his insistence she shadow his every move had been about convenience, security, and no small amount of pride. Convenience because should a situation of the same making occur again, well, it simply made sense to keep her close by and within reach. Her and that nifty miracle cure she guarded so carefully.

Under lock and key had been the first suggestion and one he had been at the time, all too ready to listen to. She had hated him, despised him, resented everything he stood for and the control he had over her life. He could see it, had seen it before in others just like her, a weaker people falling to something so much greater than themselves and the envy, the crushing feelings that came from knowing you were less than those around you, was easy to read.

Despite helping him, all that time in his delightful company, she would have chosen to run given the chance. And so, with himself accustomed to getting his own way, locking chains around her delicate little wrists had seemed the solution which required the least amount of effort on his part. After all, there was always something else that required his attention, something more important than a pretty girl in rags who spit fire and looked like a sunset come to life.

But Minue, ever the voice of reason and compassion had whispered in his ear; _you should make her want to stay. Make it impossible for her to leave you, betray you, scorn you. Won't it be so much simpler, so much nicer to know that when she comes to you when called, obeys your orders, preforms miracles at your behest, that it will have been done willingly and only for you?_ He had been forced to admit the thought held a certain amount of appeal, but what worth could her consent prove to hold?

And then, _your reign while great, has left you with no shortage of vengeful enemies. We must think of your future; Egypt's future, no method should be overlooked. No opportunity squandered._

Minue was a clever man. Drunk off too much wine and still struggling a bit to breathe, that paranoid part of him had agreed with his friend. To have someone kick and scream and fight you was all well and good when you knew who would win, but it was tiresome, and dangerous. One wrong move could have her passively standing by the next time a snake came close enough to bite. Memphis wasn't prepared to gamble away his own life for a second time.

Charming her would be easy, shiny empty promises to lure her in, and just the smallest bit of effort to keep her there.

But he was still sick, weak and burning with fever, his limbs shaking; hardly able to support his own weight and he _needed_ her to make sure. His plans, all his blinding smiles and mysterious smirks would have to wait until he could actually use them to their full effect. Now was too soon, too risky. Many a stronger man had fallen to so much less than this.

So, the chains had come off and he'd made an effort to be pleasant, to treat her like the person she wasn't and not like the object she was, all for the sake of procuring her willing participation in making sure his personal welfare was looked after and ensured.

 _Willing._ A word he hadn't cared for or about before.

Cleaned and fed and dressed like a true lady, it wasn't long before he and everyone else began to notice Evelyn was beautiful. Like when the sun shone on her hair in just the right way and it looked like the air around her radiated with the glow, or when she looked at you in just the right way, halfway to a smile, eyes shadowed, looking for all the world as though she was going to pull you into something beyond your wildest dreams, tell you something you had always been dying to hear.

He had seen, noticed more about her than he had ever thought there was to find. And in the rare instances where she opened her mouth and poison wasn't what came spilling out, he was unashamed to admit that she was downright stunning. Soft where first he had thought her to be hard, affectionate where once he assumed her to be heartless and intelligent where he had once only guessed ignorance to lie.

Before he could truly understand how or why it had happened everything had changed. Weeks turned to a month in her company, and Memphis couldn't remember when he had stopped pretending, only that he had.

To smile at her was no longer an unmeant afterthought but an instinct to encourage one of her own. Her presence was no longer unnoticed but actively sought out, as were her opinions, her thoughts, though she gave them quietly and with a reserved air, as though she thought she might be punished for them. But how could he do so when there was that moment, fleeting though it was, where she would look at him and laugh, a soft gentle laugh like music and her fingers would brush his arm or the back of his hand and he felt as though he had found something he hadn't even known was missing. Something he _wanted_.

Gods how he wanted her.

And Minue, _his friend and ever loyal servant_ , had almost taken that from him.

"I AM EGYPT!" he bellowed, his voice tearing into the tense atmosphere and suddenly, he found himself wishing he had something else to throw, "I am god here! Your god!" He stopped before the other man and crouched without warning, silent and smooth and unrelenting, voice softer now but no less dangerous. "And you would so thoughtlessly endanger someone you know I have come to care for. Someone you yourself suggested was useful, praised above the rest. I gave you explicit instructions to watch over her while I was away. Instructions I had faith you would follow, as you have proven yourself so likely to do. I thought we had an understanding, that we were like-minded in our plans. Instead, I find myself undeniably disappointed."

The tension in the air was so thick he thought he might suffocate in it.

"Please," Minue pleaded, so quietly Memphis had to strain to hear it, "nothing was done without thought. All necessary precautions were put into place, every situation discussed and prepared for." He swallowed, and the sound was overly loud, like he had choked. "I sent one of Your Majesty's personal guard to watch over her. I sent Unasu, under strict order that she was to be his first priority, his only priority. Evelyn was well cared for, looked after. She was never truly in any danger."

Memphis was not appeased and pushed forward, watching the other man flinch, saying softly, "They beat her, Minue."

As cold and detached as it sounded, anyone who knew him would hear what was hiding just underneath his apathetic tone. "Her blood-stained sand and stone, mixing with that of those who are so much less than she is. She will bear those scars, and she will bear them with greater pride than the ones you shall receive to match."

The young pharaoh looked at his friend for a long moment, really looked, and he pitied him. He had known all along who had really been behind Evelyn's relocation, and the fault wasn't to be laid at the feet of the man before him. Yet at the same time, Minue was the only one with whom the blame could be safely be pinned.

Memphis made an effort, really he did, to push away the guilt, the frustration, the regret that he would never actually be able to punish Isis for what she had done, not now, probably not ever, not even if he had wanted to. There would forever be a proxy to take her place, to face the consequences of her mistakes. She was a queen in her own right, conduit to the gods, ruler of much of lower Egypt in his stead. To raise a hand against her was to raise a hand to himself. It would admit to his people that the empire's rule was fractured. Divided. And that was something he couldn't risk.

It was a terrible thing that no matter what she did, how far she went in the tantrums she threw, that he didn't have the strength to reprimand her.

And Minue loved her, more than perhaps Isis deserved, and Memphis knew she would never return those feelings. There was a small gleeful cruel part of him that knew Minue knew. That by saying it out loud he would be doing nothing but stating a painful fact that didn't need mentioning. A humiliating one. That by saying it he would be hurting someone who had so recently hurt Evelyn.

"She will never love you." The beaten closed off expression he received wasn't nearly as satisfying as Memphis would have once found it to be.

"I think you have always known that. But knowing just isn't enough, you had to try and change your standings. And you thought that what, by listening to Isis, going along with her plans, that she would finally notice the devotion you hold for her and that she would return it? It's never that easy, it's never that simple, and by playing into her jealous, spite-filled games you have only fed fuel to the fire instead of proving that such actions will no longer be tolerated."

Shoulders sinking under the weight of what had almost happened, Memphis stood and turned to cross the short distance to his throne, completely heedless of the destruction he had to step over to get there. "You know what I have set in motion, and yet… you let this… this tragedy occur anyway."

"Forgive me." Minue whispered. He looked up, and there was still none of the fear Memphis had wanted, just shame shadowed by remorse.

"I am not the one you need to beg for forgiveness."

Memphis waved a hand, and the guards that had been hiding in corners and lurking within doorways finally stepped forward, their eyes on their general, on their king. "You have a very important decision to make general. We're done here."

They stepped into the light, towards the man still bowed, armor gleaming, prepared to pull him from the floor, but Minue was perhaps just as prideful as his king, if not slightly more modest. He stood without their assistance at his clear dismissal, turning to leave with one last unreadable glance behind him.

Memphis watched his friend leave with a heavy air, and as the doors swung shut and he was truly left alone, he hung his head. A moment of weakness he made sure no one else witnessed.

 _Yes,_ he thought, _he would have hope. Hope that Minue understood. Hope that Evelyn would be his in every way that he wanted. Willingly._

 **xXx**

With my return from my second, and hopefully only other stay at an Egyptian construction site, I felt as though I had, without warning and by some unspoken announcement, received a very large upgrade in social status. _Well,_ I admitted, thinking back to a promise made in the aftermath of a great personal catastrophe _, perhaps I had known this was coming._ After arriving back at the palace, once again having been swept up onto Memphis' horse, – although this time under a decidedly different set of circumstances – I had barely set my feet on the ground before a flock of handmaids had me surrounded and were pulling my arms, running their hands over my skin. Sighing over the state of my dress and my hair and my skin and _oh how terrible the entire ordeal must have been for me_. Really, I couldn't have fought them off if I had tried, because before I knew it, we weren't even outside anymore.

Instead, they pushed and prodded me into a new set of rooms, all blues and greens over pale stone. _Your rooms now, my lady, to use at your leisure,_ the girls had curtsied and grinned when I had asked why we were here. What I was here for.

 _My lady._ It sounded strange and would have sounded even stranger except that I knew that they meant it. I took a moment to look around, while they fussed, and bit back a sigh. We had entered first what was almost a sitting room, open and airy, with gilded chairs and small tables and vases full of flowers. A bookcase in the corner. There was a wall missing, on the far side. Instead painted columns held up the ceiling, between them a set of stairs leading down to the same courtyard Carol and I had visited what felt like a lifetime ago, the same courtyard Memphis's rooms led to.

It was almost too perfect, so painfully perfect, and for a moment I worried… I felt that maybe this was what selling your soul was like. That something terrible was waiting for me just around the corner. Waiting for me to relax and just when I thought it was all over it would be there, smacking me in the face with a laugh and a 'bitch you thought.'

 _Jesus._ I needed more sleep.

"My Lady," They'd pulled off my soiled dress and tossed it into a fire, and the rough woven linen went up in a haze of smoke. All those terrible memories tossed aside as though they could be forgotten as quickly as they burned.

Once the dress was gone, I had to resist the urge to cover myself out of habit. But beyond the dust and streaks of sweat there wasn't much to see anyway. I had lost weight during my impromptu stay. I wasn't given much time to ponder being modest in any case; we spent only as long in that outer room as it took for me to be undressed.

Then they moved further and I was dragged behind them as I had been for the past few minutes, passing several curtained archways I didn't have time to investigate, until we entered a wide round room, lit with torches, where a large bath was sunken into the floor.

 _Heaven. I was in heaven._ There was a sigh, soft and breathy and completely inappropriate. The others graciously ignored the sound, and I would steadfastly deny I ever made it if asked.

Big enough to swim in if I had wanted too; it was luxurious, with pretty glass bottles lined up in a row by the edge. All sweet-smelling soaps and oils; a whole manner of things that I felt cleaner just looking at. The bath itself was full, and steam moved over the water's surface like fog, spilling onto the floor. There were no windows or arches or columns here, just the one entrance and cleverly placed vents, hidden by the edge of each ceiling corner to let out steam as it rose.

 _Was it really for me?_

I cringed and complained when two of the girls tried to help me bathe. Ignoring their looks of surprise, I stole a sponge and assured, as a matter of fact I _insisted_ , that their time was better spent finding what I should wear from the bedroom they said was just outside the door and to the left. Despite my newfound lack of modesty, the idea of having someone other than myself bathe me was one I was distinctly uncomfortable with.

My assumption was that picking out my clothing would be enough to keep them busy. I was right.

There were five girls in total, and all five seemed far more interested in the latest hairstyles, the types of cloth used for a dress, and the various skin products I now had at my disposal than I was. Three hours were wasted while I scrubbed and lathered and rinsed, only to repeat that process twice more while they pulled dress after dress into the room for my appraisal. Eventually, I could be no cleaner and was contentedly turning into a prune while I watched them debate. I realize halfway through that I wasn't able for the life of me, to remember any of their names.

"This one is best, pure white and airy," one announced, holding it up for me to see from where I was buried neck deep in bubbles, "Just sheer enough to be a bit daring, don't you think? Pair it with a gold belt to match your hair, and you'll be more beautiful than any other woman at court."

"No, that's too plain." Another disagreed. "It should be the blue to match her eyes. It flows just as well but is as soft as silk. Not to mention it's our Pharaohs favorite color." A pause, "… or maybe it's red."

From shoes to jewelry to makeup to whether or not I should wear a wig. The latter an idea which was promptly discarded. _My hair was my best feature after all._ It went on for hours, and I didn't open my mouth once. But there was only so much time I was willing to waste, and with a tired sigh I climbed out, fighting a blush and wishing I had a robe nearby.

"I'll wear the blue one," I decided, wanting this over with, "you can choose what should go with it."

Quick to agree, they even helped me dress; smoothing out creases in the soft fabric, slipping gold bands over my wrists, setting a comb shaped like a flower into my hair, and placing small gilded shoes onto my feet. _Beautiful,_ they complimented, taking a step back. _Absolutely stunning._

Perhaps it was. Perhaps I was. It was the sort of thing that only really happened in stories. Rescued by a king – even though he was technically the reason I was there in the first place, treated like a princess, and a possible marriage proposal just around the corner. Surely for any girl, it was a dream come true. _But was it mine?_ I knew better than most how quickly dreams could turn to nightmares.

I couldn't help but think that this had all happened too fast. A hasty promise made during the emotional upheaval of a personal tragedy and the stress of an uncertain future, and now that the emotion had run dry, there was only the future to focus on. A future that was much closer than I had imagined. It had all been so vague; I wasn't entirely sure what it was I had agreed to in the first place. Something important enough to earn my promotion from battered slave to well-kept pet at the very least.

I wasn't naïve enough to believe that Memphis would allow me to renege on our deal with hysteria as my excuse.

Did I even want to?

The bracelets they had slid onto my arms glittered in the dim lighting, and I tilted a wrist to admire it. There was no name engraved this time.

"You'll have to wait," the girl still brushing my hair told me. There was a small pause, and with a final envious pat to a curl laying over my shoulder, she stepped back.

"Wait for what?"

"To see the Pharaoh." She clarified. "He asked to see you once you were… properly dressed. But he is in a meeting with General Minue." She smiled and hid a laugh behind her hand, "We could take you to wait in his rooms if you would prefer."

I did not prefer. As a matter of fact, all I wanted to do was go to sleep and forget the last month had ever happened. "No." I prodded a bit, testing the waters of my new and hopefully less constricting role. "Is there anywhere else I can go while I wait?"

We had wandered into the parlor again, slower this time now that I was clean, and I took my time exploring. The open-ended portion of the room led to a balcony, just like in Memphis' own quarters. I was able to see the entirety of the city from here.

"I want to go into town." I told them. It was perfect. I could test the boundaries of my almost-freedom. Close enough no one would accuse me of running – as long as I stayed away from the port, and far enough away it would prolong the talk, meeting, moment I knew was waiting just around the corner with my… whatever Memphis was to me.

The two closest to me exchanged hesitant looks, but the one by the door, the tall one with a severe face and the darkest eyes I had ever seen; her face lit up with a smile that was absolutely transformative.

"Oh," she sighed. "we could go shopping!" She flicked her wrist back towards the room we had just vacated with its heaps of gowns and glittering jewels and sniffed, "All you have is the basics my dear, it simply isn't enough. Now that you're here we can get proper measurements and the right fabrics for your unique coloring. The market is at its best right now you know. I heard just this morning that Palestinian merchants arrived last night. They sell the best dyed fabrics."

"Uh…"

Excited squeals and murmurs of agreement followed her announcement, all hesitation forgotten, and before I could utter any sort of rebuff her hand was on my arm, making me feel as though I was chained in a way I had not anticipated.

"Trust me darling." She said, "I know what I'm doing."

 **xXx**

I watched Unasu with the same sort of fear you might use when looking at a skittish horse you think will bolt if you move too fast. He was shaking and pale, and the corners of his eyes pinched as he frowned. He stumbled once, twice before his legs gave out and his knees hit rough stone. He wore the expression of a man defeated. He turned his hallow accusing eyes on me and I froze under the weight of it.

"Please," he whispered, "if you care for me at all, if you hold the slightest bit of affection for me, if your unending compassion will listen to my pleas; end this torture."

My heart broke for him.

"Oh, please stop that." Tall, dark and serious snapped at him from two stalls away. "You are a battle-hardened soldier of our Pharaohs army, here to protect and serve our lady, ensuring her comfort and keeping her safe. Act like it." She stomped over, the glide of her step graceful even in anger. The pile of cloth bundled up in her arms was enough to give me a heart attack. Now it was my turn to shoot a terrified look to my so named protector, but there was no comfort to be found.

"Will it never cease!" He wailed and fell forward, landing at my feet in an exhausted heap.

Merit – whose name I had only recently learned, and only because Unasu had told me – looked down at the poor man with what could only be described as disdain, huffing her annoyance, "It is just a few packages. Surely you can't be tired already."

"Three hours. We have been out here for three hours. I can't feel my arms."

"You are completely useless."

"Merit, this borders on cruelty! It's inhumane! How much stuff do you even need?"

Merit sniffed, "It's not for me," and she then waved a slim hand in my direction, "it's for her. Don't you agree that Evie deserves nice things after all she's been through?"

Unasu faltered and turned to me with wide eyes, cowed, "Of course."

She stepped over him, swooping down to pick up the bundles already purchased with a muttered _'they're going to get dirty'_ before passing them off to the other girls. She brushed her already spotless dress free of nonexistent dirt and swept her arm out like she could wipe away the people walking before them. "The next stall I want to visit is right over there."

I managed to smile even though my feet were killing me, and I was hungry enough to chew off my own arm. "I can't wait."

But not even five steps had passed before a roll of woven cloth fell before my feet, almost tripping me. I pitched forward, a soundless gasp escaping before I could stop it. Merit shouted, Unasu jumped up from where he was still laying down, and a pair of large warm hands caught me. An arm slide around my waist, pressing into my abdomen gently to help me stand. I tilted my head back, a breathless, slightly embarrassed thank you on the tip of my tongue. But when I met my savior's eyes the words died.

My heart suddenly beat so loud I thought he could hear it and I stared. My savior, he was clearly foreign. With his pale skin, hair and eyes he couldn't be mistaken for anything else.

And he was beautiful.

Memphis had compared me to the sun once, a halo of gold, radiant. His shameless flattery aside, if I was the sun than the man before me was the moon personified. Covered as he was in a large formless robe, what I could see of him was impressive. Tall and imposing he carried himself with the air of royalty. A startling contrast considering the state of his clothes. My gaze traveled over his hands, long-fingered and wrapped around my own, up his arms to wide shoulders till finally, I saw his face. It was a well-defined face; smooth skin stretched over a strong jaw. Cheekbones sharp enough I knew I'd bleed if I hit him, pale pink lips that looked chapped and dry but none the less attractive for it, a straight nose and large eyes. _His eyes._

They were intense. A brown so light they almost seemed clear and I blinked, a bit dazed, struggling to pull myself free from the spell I so suddenly found myself under.

 _He could have been cut from marble._ I had to repress a feminine sigh.

But it wasn't his pretty, pretty eyes that made my breath freeze in my lungs and my heart stop beating. No, it was the way he looked at me. Calculating, a little bit cold. He dragged his eyes over all of me and I could feel it; like he had dumped a bucket of ice over my head. My throat closed up, the ground swayed in a way that told me it was only his grip on me that kept my body upright. It scared me, that look.

All of a sudden, I didn't want to be here anymore. I wanted to go back to the palace, back to my shiny, luxurious too-nice-to-be-a-cage-but-secretly-were rooms and stay there for a while. And the craziest thing of all; I wanted Memphis. The safety he provided.

"Forgive me, my lady." His hands were still covering mine, locked in an iron grip around my much smaller, much more fragile fingers. And oh, _his voice._ Smooth and rich and velvety. It brought to mind hot summer nights and silk sheets and too much wine. My eyes closed against the onslaught.

My voice wavered as I answered, "It's no trouble."

But I had the feeling he was very much trouble.

Unasu, finally free of the trauma brought on by too much shopping, had watched our little exchange with the wide-eyed stare of someone seeing a terrifying car crash for the first time; horrified and unable to look away. At the sound of my voice, however, he blinked, stepped forward, and tugged my hands free with a firm, surprisingly gentle tug. That done he moved to stand between us.

We weren't playing games now. Gruff and serious, he took one look at the man standing before us, at the way he still hadn't moved his gaze from mine – instead bending to the side to keep me in his sight – and bristled, "Who are you?"

The man smiled at me, winking as though he knew just what I was thinking and turned to face the only one of my bodyguards he could see.

"A merchant, from Palestine." He said, and this time as he leaned around, he winked, brushing the edge of Unasu's cloak to grin at me, "My name is Ismir."

Unasu just shoved him back. "She doesn't care." He pushed again, a couple feet farther away from me, and when he felt it was enough he stepped back, his face set in stone. "Your papers, if you would, as well as your cargo transcripts."

It wasn't a request.

Ismir handed them over, his brimming with humor and a smirk twisting his stupidly beautiful face. It only took a moment, but the look of pure frustration that crossed Unasu's face as he looked over the papers told me everything I needed to know. He huffed after a moment, pressing the papers back into Ismirs chest with a disgruntled, "Everything's in order."

"As I knew it would be."

The crowd around us shifted, the rest of my many guards coming into view before fading again, and I caught the controlled surprise that flickered over his eyes like film before disappearing.

"I've heard of you," he continued, and I knew he was addressing me once again. "Gift of the Nile. I can see now that the praise is well deserved, for there is surely none more beautiful than you, my lady." I heard Merit gasp behind me. Or was it a sigh? Either way, I was unable to fight the blush that stained my cheeks and trailed down the slope of my neck.

 _His eyes followed the color._

"Evie." Unasu's hand was on my arm, urgent. His distrustful stare still locked on the merchant. "We should be heading back now. It's late. His Majesty will be worried." I was quick to agree, and all the previously purchased packages were handed to heavily armored men that stepped out of doorways and into the street around us.

"Wait." Before I could get too far that sinfully soft voice called out, stopping me in my tracks. I didn't turn, but I was hyper-aware of the way the air shifted as he came closer, halting when those circling me began to grip spears and swords just a little tighter. "A gift for you, for the inconvenience."

A small roll of silk was placed softly into my empty hands before I even registered Ismir had moved, and with a sharp intake of air I watched as he made his way back over to the group of similarly clothed men I had failed to notice before, standing off to the side and watching our exchange.

His parting words followed me all the way back to the palace and into my rooms, curling around me in a way that made me shiver. _From fear,_ I told myself, although in reality it could have been from something else entirely.

"I'll be seeing you soon, _Evie_."

He was definitely trouble.


	17. Chapter 15

A/N

Dear sousie,

Carol is gone, she is not coming back. However, we will have a chapter featuring her return to the future and her reunion with her family. There will be tears, possibly some yelling, plenty of angsty Ryan…you know, the works.

But Carol is out of the past for good. To those of you who like her (does anyone?) I'm not sorry.

P.s. Please skip over this next part if you don't want to see me beg for attention.

Holy crap it's been a month since I've updated. You know what would motivate me?

Reviews.

Wait that came out really bossy I didn't mean it like that. It's just that I write much more slowly when I think the only person interested is myself, and I already know what's going to happen. And I re-read them whenever I'm stuck because they make me happy.

P.p.s This is unedited, mistakes were made people.

Ok, I'm done now.

 **xXx**

How was I supposed to feel?

I looked back down, just for a second - a harrowing, terrible gut-wrenching second. At the man kneeling there, at the look on his face. _A soldier from Babylon._ Begging me and pleading for this to end. The sun was beating down on us. Hot scorching waves that burned the sand beneath our feet and hovered over the ground like fog. If I squinted, I could almost pretend that what I was looking at wasn't real.

A bloodied hand reached out, inches from the hem of my dress. Still, he said nothing, but then I didn't need words to know what he was trying to say.

I was being watched, I knew. Watched and judged and tested, every expression weighed against me. I just didn't know what for. So, I held back the tremble I knew was threatening my lower lip. I struggled to breathe as my throat closed up, my lungs paralyzed. I kept the mask of indifference I'd had on since this morning steady and hoped it wouldn't crack.

He noticed anyway.

" _What you wanted."_

He was wrong, this wasn't at all what I had meant, and if only he had just asked… But he hadn't, and now I was stuck looking at this with him looking at me like I should be impressed, or proud. Grateful even.

At the moment I wasn't anything but nauseous. The sight of blood still made me shudder, and I had seen so much of it in the time I had been here. I didn't think I would ever get used to it. Memphis moved to stand beside me, his arm slipping around my waist, hand over my hip and breath ruffling my hair. "So stubborn." He sighed. He wasn't talking about me. "Forgive me, but it seems that your second gift will be much harder to obtain than the first."

He looked at the man with the cane still in his hands. "Again," he ordered. Pressed as close as he was to me, Memphis could feel the way I flinched as that same man raised his arm over and over again until the screams stopped. His hand crept up, trailing over my arm to my face, where he turned my cheek to rest against the bare plane of his chest in a parody of comfort. I closed my eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, misreading my disgust. "I should have realized this would bring up the trauma you have only so recently suffered." With a wave of his hand, the solider was pulled to his feet and carried away, when it became clear he couldn't stand on his own.

"Tell me, how are you feeling?" Memphis continued, a finger slipping under the collar of my dress rest between my shoulder blades. The scars were still raw and red. "Is there anything you need? Are you hungry? Thirsty? You do look pale, perhaps it would be better if you spent less time in the sun. Let me walk you back to your rooms."

He was insistent and surprisingly caring. I knew in part it was because Carol hadn't been found. Not her, not her corpse – as I heard many of his men say that was what they were now looking for. And the other driving force behind his sudden attentiveness was because he felt guilty over what had happened after. With Isis and her scheming. With my scars. With me.

Unasu had shared with him what transpired during my market visit, and now jealousy warred with Memphis' already overwhelming protective streak. He had taken to having me accompany him everywhere. Including on his less than savory errands. _But could I blame him?_ He asked me. _It had been so short a time that he had me back here at the palace, where I belonged. Could I blame him for his reaction to the unwanted attention that was so suddenly heaped upon me?_ Yes. I could blame him a little.

He had raged after hearing that report and taking the small roll of fabric that was my gift from Ismir, had thrown it into a fire and watched it burn to ash. Tore it from my hands with that look in his eyes that I was always so relieved to never see aimed at me. Never at me, and I watched with baited breath as Unasu took the brunt of his anger over a chance encounter. The sheer depth of his anger, over so small an issue… it scared me.

He noticed that too.

He held me afterward, apologetic, and told me he'd buy a ship's worth of silk and linen and cotton if I wanted. He held me, wrapped completely in his arms, legs tangled together, and murmured against the curve of my shoulder that I was his and his alone to worship. To shower with gifts. To love.

That had been a week ago and still, I was required to shadow his every move. I pulled him to a stop. "No, I'm fine," I assured him. "But I do have something you need." I leaned into him, let myself be drawn into how warm he was, how comforting. "You were questioning that man for the knowledge of how to forge iron swords? I know how, so there's no need to continue with him, and if your majesty permits, I would be more than happy to show you."

At the time, I wasn't thinking about how sharing this information might have been a mistake, how it might affect history. After all, Egypt had fallen to Rome for the express reason that their weaponry, their strategy was less advanced, weaker. That could have changed, and I mulled it over as I looked at him, only to find the thought of Egypt surviving longer than Rome didn't bother me. I wasn't even thinking of how that thought should have made me hesitate – would have, once.

No, I was thinking about the look on that soldiers' face. The pain he had been subjected to for no reason other than where he called home. My suffering had ended. As temporary as it might be I had wanted his to end as well.

During the silence that followed and, in my worry that somehow I had overstepped myself, I looked up to meet Memphis gaze as he pressed closer. Always closer. He was smiling, a triumphant, proud smile aimed at me and there was a look in his eyes. Something I wouldn't – couldn't – describe.

"Iron and steel are nothing compared to you." He leaned forward to press his lips to my hair.

"You are a treasure."

 **xXx**

Hidden away in the city, eyes fixed upon the palace because he _knew_ she was there, Ismir sat in the small shaded room of an inn and he waited. In his hand was his sister's jewelry. He remembered that she had liked to wear them in her hair. Now it was burnt, bloodied, and beyond repair. His dead sisters' jewelry. It had been a gift from their father. All glittering gold and rubies so red they looked as though they were made from fire and blood in equal measure.

Now it was beyond saving. It had been given to him days ago, by one of his men. He had burst into the hovel they were staying in, face pale. _"I found it in a hand-me-down shop. Saw it in through the window. The shopkeeper didn't know much, only that it had been sold to him by an employee of the palace."_ Ismir's fist clenched around it at the memory, the warped metal biting into his palm. His own blood mixing with the dark dried substance he knew to be his sisters' own.

It hurt. The thought that she might have suffered. And she must have; the blood and soot were mixed in a way that meant both had stained the jewelry at approximately the same time. When he looked at it Ismir thought he could see her, feel her pain, hear her screaming. _Gods, what was he going to do?_ He would have to send word to his parents, tell through ink on a page that their daughter was dead. Tell his country they had lost a princess.

His head dropped to rest in his free hand, and he pressed against the headache he could feel building behind his eyes. Someone precious had been taken from him. Stolen. And the pain of it was almost too much to bear. He breathed deeply, all too aware of the heavy gazes of his men that settled over him like a shroud. They all knew who was to blame, now it was just to see what he was going to do about it.

"We'll sneak into the palace tonight." He told them. "A friend will show us the way in."

"Your Highness?" He could hear the doubt, but he had no patience for it.

Ismir's hand moved to set the ruined headpiece down gently, instead picking up a small piece of paper. A woman had approached him earlier that morning, waving away her armed escort to step up to his mount and the fabrics spread over its' back. She was well spoken and well dressed, with her painted eyes and braided headdress. But she was no noble. A servant then.

"My lady Isis would love these." She told him, peering out of the corner of her eye.

He knew that name.

Their conversation was brief but informative, enough to know that he had potential allies in Egypt. First, there had been a moment of panic, thinking that perhaps he hadn't been as subtle as he had hoped to be in hiding his identity. But instead of the accusations he had been expecting there were banal questions about his wares, and then, just when he was starting to think that he was wrong, that it wasn't the same Isis he thought it might be that she slipped a folded bit of papyrus into his palm.

"You met our Lady Evelyn the other day, did you not?" she asked. "She is beautiful, isn't she? They say she's a gift from the Nile herself, a goddess sent to rule beside our pharaoh." The words sounded sweet, but her tone hid something much darker than what her praise suggested. "They say she is his true love…or his obsession. Her rooms are next to his, the men that guard her are his own soldiers, their attention redirected. Together almost every waking moment. He treats her like a queen and has plans to make her one. How _lucky_ we are that they have found each other."

He hadn't known what to say to that, but he tucked the knowledge away as she left, her armed men following.

Hours later and it had been folded and refolded so many times that the lines blurred the hastily scratched hieroglyphs until they were almost illegible, smudged across the page. But that didn't matter, he'd read them enough that their image was burned into the back of his mind.

 _The back gate to the palace will be open tonight, the streets clear. But the pharaoh grows cautious and a prolonged visit is not advised. The guards outside her rooms change every hour, so you'll have to be quick, just quick enough to leave a note. To lure her out of the safety he provides._

 _We leave it to you to provide a distraction if necessary._

Eyes dark and hard, he stood. "I want to leave a message, one that will finally break through to Egypt's insipid ruler." He smiled, and it was cruel. "I want retribution - punishment - for a crime none involved will admit too. Besides," he sighed, "Evelyn will be there. Let's see if we can't lure her away and hurt Memphis in the process."

Yet as much as he wanted revenge, he couldn't let his anger get out of control. Ismir turned away from the window, away from the painful reminder sitting on the table in front of it. He wouldn't look at it anymore he decided. He would mourn and look forward and he would remember her as the last time he had seen her. Vibrant and alive and so painfully ambitious.

He could be ambitious too.

 **xXx**

I paced the length of my room as the sun set. On my bed was a small roll of papyrus and it seemed innocent enough. I'd come back from a day spent in the palace smithy, covered in soot and saw it there. Plain, tied with a ribbon and left beside another small bolt of fabric. Just like the one Ismir had given to me only a short time before. I wanted to laugh at how ridiculous this all seemed, except that the more I thought about my situation the less funny it was.

The fabric I held in my hands; it was soft, a silk that moved like water, dyed a light blue. _Beautiful._ There was a pink lotus blossom embroidered in the lower right corner. My favorite flower, though I doubted whoever had left it for me had known that.

It took me a moment to notice I had been stroking it as I walked, running the soft material through my fingers. Stopping, I hid it away, shoved it under the mattress so I wouldn't have to see it anymore and scooped up the scroll. I moved into the sitting room, settling heavily into a chair by the door.

 _My lady,_ it said.

 _Forgive my secrecy, but one can never be too careful. The snakes in Egypt never sleep._

 _There are things you and I need to discuss, in private, in person. You are not as safe as you imagine yourself to be. You are being lied to, and locked away in your cage you don't know any better. I know you've lost something precious recently. I lost something too._

 _I believe we can help each other find what we're looking for._

 _Meet me behind the palace, west of the Nile tomorrow night. I think we both will find the answers - the closure we both deserve._

 _Your new friend._

I snorted at that. Nobody here was my friend.

So, a man I had spoken to for less than a minute wanted to meet and tell me secrets.

Something I had lost. _Carol? Had someone found her?_ The thought was poison. It filled me with hope. The idea that she might still be here, alive, was almost too painful to imagine. I could apologize, tell her that getting us home would be my number one priority from now on. Anything she wanted, so long as she was alright.

It might not be true. But was I willing to risk the chance that it wasn't?

And then Minue was bursting into my room, eyes wide and panicked, short of breath like he'd been running. Skidding across the polished floor to catch himself against a table. I stood as he entered, shoving the small scroll I'd been holding into a vase. I didn't want him to see. He would take it from me, use it as proof of me wanting to run away, or trying too. One look at it and I would never be allowed outside the palace walls again. No, he couldn't find out. No one could.

"Evelyn," he gasped, "come quickly. Please." He grabbed me without waiting for my answer, and even as his grip left marks on the skin of my arm I didn't fight him, only picked up my pace.

The halls were empty, eerily so. Torchlight flickered as we walked by, shuddering in the breeze we left in our wake and creating monsters where there were none.

"Why? Minue, what's happened?"

Voice lowered, as though he thought someone was listening, he answered, "An attempt was made to end Memphis's life. Assassins in the palace, at least three. I don't know how they got in and snuck past the guards. His patrol caught them by the back gate. They went straight for him." We passed Memphis quarters, only a few doors away from my own. Minue stopped and turned to face me, his hands gripped my shoulders, eyes sweeping over me as though seeing me for the first time that night. "They would have passed right by your rooms." He held me tighter. I could feel his hands shaking. "Did you see them? Are you hurt?"

"No, no." I thought back to that little piece of parchment hidden in a vase, the silk hidden under my bed. "You're the first person I've seen all night." True enough. True where it mattered.

"Good." He said. "That's good." A few twists and turns later and we entered a parlor I'd never seen before. "He's been asking for you."

The guards let us pass easily enough, the real struggle was getting to Memphis through the crowd surrounding him. A group of at least ten people, each of them pressing closer. I caught a glimpse of Memphis as they shifted, and the glimpse of red stained cloth had me tugging against Minues' continued grasp. He let go. I didn't need further motivation to enter the room, I went on my own, pushing through the people there until I was standing in front of them all. Like a moth to a flame, I couldn't help myself. Couldn't stop the irrational surge of worry that made my heart beat faster.

I sucked in a sharp gasp at the sight of him. He had a hand pressed over his left shoulder, using a bundle of linen as a makeshift bandage to stem the bleeding. I hovered anxiously, hands flitting over his own as I looked at him, unsure of what exactly it was he wanted me to do.

"It is a small wound. Nothing to worry about." Memphis told me, but his casual dismissal did nothing to lessen the feeling. Moving his hand aside, I pressed my own palms over his wound, turning to look at the other slaves standing just outside the doorway. I sent them off for actual bandages, warm water and alcohol as Memphis spoke over my head to Minue and listened with half an ear as a report of the would-be assassins' failed capture was relayed.

If things played out the way I thought they might, I would most likely be meeting that very same assassin tomorrow night. It was a sobering thought.

"Memphis!" The doors opened once more, and Isis, in all her bejeweled glory, spilled into the room like a flood. Where I had had to push and shove my way through the crowd around us, they parted for her like the Red Sea for Moses. The only difference being it was not divine intervention that cleared her path, it was fear. She dropped to her knees before him, delicate and graceful with tears in her eyes. Her hands tore mine away from her brother as though I were diseased. "Now that I'm here, everything will be alright."

But he waved her away. "There's no need for that, I have Evelyn to tend to me. You shouldn't have gotten out of bed Isis." His hand found mine, and oblivious to the burning stare of his sister he pulled me closer until I was standing between his parted knees, only inches separating us. "Continue, please."

The water was sitting on the table by the chaise he was lounging on, along with all the other things I'd asked for but had been too distracted to notice were there. I wiped the blood off his skin with numb fingers, and without stopping to warn him had poured a generous amount of alcohol on a clean cloth and begun to dab at the outer edges of the laceration.

His reaction was instantaneous; he hissed and reared back, shifting his shoulder out of my reach with a pained grimace. Isis rushed forward, and taking hold of my hair, violently wrenched me back and onto my knees.

"See!" She shrieked. "This – this _insect_ has no idea what she's doing! She's _hurting_ you!" Shoving me to the side, Isis ran a hand up his bicep and crooned. "Let me help you, let me make it better."

With all the commotion, the advisors and guards that had previously been a background fixture came running forward, and from my position on the floor, I was quickly buried in a sea of legs. Afraid of being trampled, I drew my legs underneath me, struggling to stand.

"Enough!" Memphis bellowed, and at the force of his voice even Isis backed away. "Enough." He repeated. "Get out, all of you." A little bit afraid, I made to move with the rest of them towards the door. "Not you Evelyn. You're the only one I want in here." And clearly displeased, he waved his servants, his retainers, his soldiers – and his sister – away, ordering everyone out until it was just the two of us left.

"How's your head?" He asked.

Automatically reaching to touch the abused spot, I shrugged. "Fine."

He leaned back, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Come here."

I obeyed on shaky legs, moving back to my original position in utter silence. A new cloth, more alcohol. _Damn it all, he was bleeding again._ Though it was softer this time, he still shuddered as I worked. "That really does hurt."

"A necessary evil," I whispered.

"Is it?"

I didn't answer, and for a while I worked without speaking. The cut was deep, but not so deep it needed stitches. I settled for wrapping his shoulder, holding the bundled cloth I was using to halt the now sluggish trickle of blood while I wound gauze around his torso with the other. He made no move to sit up, and much to his smug satisfaction and my own embarrassment I was forced to press against him as I stretched my arm around his back.

I took a deep breath as I tied it off, finally able to put some space between us. "Why is it that every time we're alone together, it's because you've somehow managed to injure yourself?"

He laughed, "That's not entirely true, nothing that's happened so far has been self-inflicted."

"That isn't what I meant."

"I know what you meant."

With one arm – quicker than I could defend against – he snagged me around the waist, pulling me not onto his lap as I expected, but beside him. "Don't stand so far away." He murmured, "I like you closer, here where you belong, right next to me." He shifted a bit and we were suddenly skin to skin. "So, you're tired of taking care of me. I can think of a number of other things we could do together, but I get the feeling you wouldn't think them quite as much fun as I would at the moment."

I stiffened, freezing in place as his hand, heavy and warm, settled over the flat expanse of my stomach, right under the curve of my breasts. "Relax," he sighed. "I have no ill intentions. I just want to hold you."

Yet despite his claims, my muscles stayed locked and I trembled, ready to run. Eventually discontent with my apparent unease, he hauled me up and over and soon I was pinned, chest to chest between him and the back of the couch. He lay on his uninjured shoulder, eyes closed. His bound arm rested in the curve of my waist. It wasn't heavy or demanding, I didn't feel confined. Instead, it settled over me with a sure sort of confidence, as though he knew I wouldn't throw him off.

"I'm tired," his eyes were open now, staring into my own frightened ones. He traced the lines of my face with his gaze, from my forehead down to my nose, over my cheeks, lingering over my lips. He looked at me like he was searching for something. After a moment he sighed as though he hadn't found it and shuffled back, easing himself further away. "Someday you won't look at me like that."

I swallowed, all too aware of how hard my heart was beating. "Like what?"

"Like you think I'm going to hurt you."

I looked back at him and was completely mesmerized. At his eyes, so different to my own. Large, dark and deep. Foreboding. The sky without any stars. They were blank but not empty. Always something there beneath the surface, something I would have to drown to discover. The ridge of his brow came next, the smooth skin of his forehead, which even after all my time in the sun was tanner than mine. He still wore his gold circlet, and I wondered if it hurt where it dug into his temple. As he breathed I was drawn to his nose, aristocratic and perfectly straight. He had most likely never broken it. The delicate curve of his jaw, a pointed chin. His lips. They were chapped, raw where he had bitten at them. He was shadows and sharp edges, glittering eyes in the dark. He was dangerous and regal.

In a way, he and Ismir weren't so different I decided. Both from a much darker world than I was. The night to my day. And Memphis; he was a blank expanse of night sky trying to hold onto the sun as it disappeared.

"I let him go." He said suddenly, and my eyes snapped up from where they'd stayed, half-lidded, on his lips. "That boy, Sechi. I let him go right before Caro– before everything happened. He was escorted back to Gosen with not another mark on him. There never seemed a good moment to tell you, though I suppose now is as good as any."

"Why?" I asked softly.

"He is your friend." He said simply. As though that was the only reason he needed. I nodded dumbly, touched beyond reason and so utterly relieved that at least things were getting better for someone.

"Thank you."

It was quiet for a while after that, long enough that I thought maybe he had fallen asleep. I had twitched, tugging my arm free from underneath my side to rest between us when he surprised me.

"Will you stay?" I watched his throat bob as he swallowed, saw the flutter of his pulse at the hollow of his throat. "Just for tonight. Just to sleep."

"Yes," I breathed, "I'll stay."

And slowly, he leaned forward, stopping once to give me time to say no and when I remained silent, pressed his lips to mine. He sighed my name like a prayer against my mouth and as one of his hands moved to tangle itself in my hair, I parted my lips, wanting to breathe him in.

He stilled at the invitation, surprised, and with an impatient huff I slid closer, slanting my mouth over his, pulling at his bottom lip with my teeth. Then the surprise wore off and he surged forward, hard enough to bruise. Desperate open-mouthed kisses that left me gasping, nails digging into his chest, until I had to break away for air.

He followed me as I pulled away.

"Just to sleep." I agreed, and my voice wavered. He nodded, and after a moment tucked my head under his chin, his hand sliding down my back to pull me closer, eliminating the space he had so graciously given me before.


	18. Chapter 16

A/N

Okay, people. There is some violence in this chapter, some light swearing. Nothing that I personally find alarming, but I thought I would put the notice out there.

So, there it is.

I did mention that this fic was going to be a bit darker than the manga, right? But let me know, was it unrealistic, should I do some more editing, too OOC? I'm trying.

 **xXx**

The last thing Carol remembered was fighting with Memphis on top of a wall at the edge of the Nile. He had… he had just surrounded her, his hand on her arm. He had pulled her back asking her to _stop, calm down and what would Evie think_. It had been that which had set her off she remembered. The mention of her sister had made her angry enough that logic and the idea of consequence had flown right out the window the moment he had said her name.

She knew exactly what Evie thought. Every cruel opinion had already been laid bare, and Carol cared for none of it.

God, she had just been so sick of her sister, of her selfish single-minded attitude. And Carol had felt so betrayed, her situation seemingly so hopeless and hearing her sisters name, the very same person that she was, at that very moment, trying to get away from – it had been too much.

She ripped herself out of his grasp, angry words meant to hurt him on the tip of her tongue, but she had pulled too hard… and then it was too late. She had pitched over the side – slipped really – and then the shock of landing headfirst into the river had hit her. An icy pain that started at the top of the skull and swept down her spine. She'd gasped, taking in a lungful of water and had distantly hoped she wouldn't be eaten by a crocodile as her world went dark.

Her first thought when consciousness came creeping back was that she had died. Pulled under by the current to drown. But as her eyes opened, she knew she was still among the living. She hurt far too much to be dead.

Oh, heavens above, everything hurt. Her head was pounding, her muscles ached with fatigue, her throat felt like she'd scrubbed it with sandpaper, and when she tried to open her eyes – they burned, even in the dim light beyond her closed eyelids. She couldn't remember a time she had hurt quite like this.

Carol wallowed in the pain, and her own self-pity for what felt like hours, but what really could only have been a few minutes before the door opened, bright light filling the room and forcing her to pull the sheets over her head with a pained groaned. There was a moment of weighted silence, and then a piercing scream broke it, shattering the last of the drowsy haze she had woken up in into an absolute sense of clarity.

"Ryan!"

Trine yelled just as loudly as Carol remembered, the volume not doing anything for her headache. Pain pulsed behind her eyes, and she sat up with a strangled groan to clutch at her temples. Bordering on hysterical, Trine yelled again – this time from right beside the bed, and Carol half-heartedly fought the hands pushing her back into the pillows.

Calloused fingers brushed against her sweaty cheeks and carded through limp hair, and the soft nearly crooning words spoken in a low tone by her ear were familiar and welcome. Trine smelled of fresh bread and laundry detergent, and Carol turned to bury her face in the older woman's shoulder, suddenly very much overwhelmed.

Eventually and though the sound was muffled, Carol heard footsteps running towards them, along with anxious voices, each one clamoring to be heard over the other as they drew ever closer to the still open doorway. They were voices she never thought she would hear again. Tears welled, and Carol didn't bother to wipe them away as her mother, her brothers, burst into the room.

There was a heavy silence then, one of disbelief that was broken by her mother's sound of joy. The tears slipped down her cheeks, the salt stinging at the cracks in her lips and dripping from her chin onto the blankets covering her lap. She smiled through the watery blur as her mother hugged her, cried even harder as Ryan's hand brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

 _It's real,_ Carol thought. It felt real. The stiff fabric of her mother's starched blouse under her shaking hands, the smell of her perfume. How soft the bed was underneath her, how solid Rodney's arm was around her shoulder. _It's really real._ She was finally home.

She was home. Just her.

Alone.

 **xXx**

Hours later, after everyone had calmed and the sun had set, Ryan ushered the rest of their family out of her room. He closed the door behind them, the sound somewhat ominous despite the joy that filled her heart. It left them shrouded in semi-darkness and with night now well under way, the only light in the room was a few lit candles. Even that stung at her eyes, raw and red as they now were after her vigorous bought of sobbing.

They spent several tense moments in silence. Suddenly very nervous and unsure, Carol watched him blow a ring of smoke out of the open window from where he sat across from her, and whatever she had thought she might say to him once they were reunited stuck in her throat. The words choked her, making it hard to breathe, and she found that after several seconds of trying to force something, anything – an apology, a reassurance, a lie? - past her lips that, well, she didn't know what to say. It was clear that he was waiting for an explanation, an excuse for all the worry and strain.

But the truth… encased as she was in the soft comfort of her bed, it now seemed, even to her, unbelievable. A dream. _A nightmare._ So, all those things she wanted to say; she swallowed them along with the truth, and they settled with a painful thud inside her heart. _They won't believe me,_ she trembled at the thought, _they'll think I'm crazy and I'll be locked away and what will I be able to do for Evie then?_ Because Evie was still trapped there, at the Pharaohs mercy – if he had any at all. Carol was altogether sure he didn't. _But Evie is smart,_ Carol tried to console herself, _she knows how to keep her head down and she'll figure out what happened to me and she'll follow. She has too._

No, she wouldn't tell Ryan the truth. She wouldn't tell anyone.

She turned her attention instead to her brother, who during her internal crisis had watched the emotions flit across her face, a ball of dread growing in the pit of his stomach as she became less and less easy to read in the wake of her decision. A whiskey sat, half empty, on the table beside him. The burn of the cigarette in his hand was steady and familiar, and despite Carol's distaste for the habit; she couldn't find it within herself to reprimand him for it. He looked… he looked awful. Pale and thin and drawn, as if he'd spent days awake with no food.

She winced as her lungs suddenly spasmed – the memory of water choking her was still all too fresh, and that small guilty part of her whispered through her pain that he probably had. Sat up for days without eating, imagining terrible things had befallen them. And all this for far longer than a few days. Guilt might have been irrational, but it was there nonetheless, and it only grew with Ryan's silence.

Carol pulled a pillow into her lap and pulled at the seams, nervous for a reason she was unwilling to admit out loud. She knew what he wanted, just as she knew neither of them wanted to take the final step to get there. For her part, Carol was sure he wouldn't believe her… and he, well, she guessed he just didn't know how to ask.

He would though. He always asked when it came to _her_. The resentment that usually accompanied that thought was surprisingly absent. No, that feeling was currently replaced by that damning all-consuming amount of guilt. It was difficult to hold onto old bitter feelings when Evie wasn't as safe and sound as she herself was. Yes, Evie was most defiantly not safe, and her heart pounded just at the thought of being the person that was going to tell him that.

Ryan had forever been Evie's champion, her savior – quite literally, and they shared a bond that Carol, for all that she was his _real_ sibling, had never been able to understand nor replicate. Looking at him now, that favoritism was easy to see; there was anguish hiding under his relief. Carols' heart gave a painful thud and she wondered dispassionately if he was wishing it was Evie sitting here with him instead. By the time he finally opened his mouth to ask her, Carols' palms were sweating, and she was watching him in the same way one might a smoking volcano. He would ask, and the question would burn her.

"Where have you been?" His tone was deceptively soft for the amount of emotion behind it. Ice clinked against the side of his glass as he raised it to his lips, only to change his mind and set it down again. "Almost three months you were missing. I have all but torn Egypt apart looking for you."

There was relief in his voice, and anger. But not at her. He leaned forward, cigarette forgotten where it was pinched between two fingers and Carol's eyes followed the trail of ash as it drifted down to pile on the carpet at his feet. "We found you by the Nile, half drowned. You were hardly alive, barely breathing. Wearing a costume no one could explain. You were asleep for weeks and we worried you might never wake up." He stopped and stood, crossing the room with unsteady steps to sit at her side. He grabbed her hand, and where his skin touched hers, he was cold.

"We found you alone." His grip tightened to the point of pain even though his hands were shaking. Ryan could see that she was upset, frightened, but even as he noticed these things, he found himself unmoved by them. Their whole family had been so afraid. He had been afraid. And the relief of having Carol back was tempered by the knowledge someone else was still missing.

It had hurt, a pain so strong it knocked him to his knees; they had both been gone. A sudden disappearance. No ransom note, no notice. No sign of them anywhere. The police had urged him, as the weeks went by, to abandon the search. Resources were being stretched too thin, they had said, it had been long enough for there to be nothing to find. The pain of it struck him with such force some days he found it hard to breathe, hard to focus beyond anything other than the panic that had been threatening to overwhelm him. But he hadn't stopped looking, and Carol had been brought back to them alive. And if she was here then maybe… maybe… "Carol, where is Evelyn?"

In the safety of his own mind, alone in his room, having had too much to drink and tracking sand over the floor – there had been moments, in the height of his fear, where he had thought that Carol would be the one that might not come back. God may condemn him, but the thought had slipped in and refused to leave. Born to privilege and a family with more than enough money to secure the best security, Carol had known nothing but safety her entire life. She was so quick to trust, naïve in a way that had haunted him once she was gone.

But Evie, she was different. She had always been cautious to the point of paranoia. A product of circumstance, he was sure. Even after the adoption, after all the years they had been a family, she had never told him what her life had been like before he had found her. She wouldn't talk about it, had shut down every time he had tried. Whatever it was, she came out of it tough.

He never thought it would be her he would have to worry about. Ryan wasn't so sure now. The image he held of her had shifted; she was once again the starving wide-eyed little girl he had caught stealing supplies from his father's excavation site. Small and scared and alone. Only this time he wouldn't be able to help her. _It was killing him._

Evie was alive too. She had to be.

"Why isn't she with you?" Voice breaking, he wouldn't look at her. "Why didn't she come home too?"

But Carol couldn't answer, she was crying again. She didn't think she had ever seen him look so lost.

 **xXx**

Things had changed between Memphis and me after the night he had kissed me – subtle though it was; from the way his hand lingered in the small of my back as we walked, to the way I was treated by others.

I was sitting in on his council meetings now, a gilded chair just for me beside his own where I had once been told to stand. I was suddenly given a higher social standing, one that, while it might not have been his equal, was deemed good enough to be allowed by his side on a personal level. It made my head spin, the speed at which his personality had seemed to flip, taking me with it.

But the strangest thing about all of it was that nobody else was surprised. They accepted my place among them with an unusual amount of grace for a timeline that was notorious for the degradation of women. On top of it all, I was exempt from all of my previous duties. Cleaning wasn't something I was told to participate in, and the slaves I had once previously spent countless hours with, I hardly saw now.

 _Kesi wouldn't even look at me._

It was as though I'd stepped over a line. One I had been standing in front of since the moment I had decided to save Memphis's life, and had never been given permission to cross until now. I was falling into a whole new world for the second time and I was just as unprepared as the first.

I was playing with politics now.

It was exhausting.

And Minues mother, Nefertari, I walked her rounds with her. To better learn the workings of the palace, I was told – and to that end, the people in it. Not that I didn't enjoy her lectures on what parts of the palace were understaffed or the best produce merchants in the area, I just couldn't understand why – after so many months of being here – that now was the time all of these things were suddenly deemed necessary for me to learn. It was strange, it didn't make sense… it left me on edge.

But if I were to hazard a guess, I would have said I was no longer being treated as a slave at all. No longer a slave, no longer guarded. At least not as much.

Which, of course, brought me to now. Pacing through my rooms and staring into the flames like they had the answers I was trying so hard to find. But then, I wasn't even sure I wanted them. Answers I mean. The note I'd received said the meeting was tonight, by the Nile. I would have had to sneak out – the thought didn't excite me as much as it once might have. My lips curled up in what could have been a smile but turned out to be more of a sneer.

Pandora's box should never have been opened. Psyche should never have looked at Eros. Othello murdered his wife under false pretenses. There were so many events throughout history – fictitious or not – that were so easily preventable, so obviously a trap.

I had wanted so badly for this to be real, for him to know where Carol was. But he couldn't have because she was gone. She wasn't here anymore, not the way I was. Pretty lies and pretty things weren't enough to convince me otherwise. So, I burned them. The scroll, the silk – both went up in a flash of red flame. It had been the right thing to do, the only thing.

I didn't go and now hours after the meeting was supposed to occur, I couldn't help but feel as though something terrible was going to happen. Call it woman's intuition, but the anticipation left me high strung and edgy. I was, so to say, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I knew that when it did, it would be catastrophic.

…I wasn't wrong.

They must have snuck in while my back was turned, must have known that I was no longer being watched as closely as I had been before. The entire palace more concerned for the pharaoh's safety after so recent an attack than a girl who was no longer considered a flight risk. He was in the throne room I knew, and as a result so were most of his soldiers.

There were three others stationed along the hallway leading to my door, and Unasu – he would be coming to check on me before retiring for the night. It should have been fine. But it was quiet, too quiet, and for a long time, the only thing I could hear was the sound of my own feet gliding over polished stone. There should have been a shift in the guard outside, people talking. Something, anything, so long as I wasn't alone. But I hadn't been paying attention. _I should have._

"You weren't there."

It all happened so quickly.

Within the blink of an eye, a gasp for breath – that was all it took for someone to sneak up behind me, the curved edge of a blade pressing against the beat of my pulse. "It was…disappointing. I waited for almost an hour before realizing you weren't going to show." The body behind me was warm and solid, pressing against me in an attempt to intimidate me. Caging me in. "How rude, making me come to you."

My heart stopped. _I know that voice._ The adrenaline that flooded my senses was instantaneous, out of my control and I struggled against my body's' natural urge to fight against his hold with his knife at my throat.

"Let's you and I take a walk." He said, but it wasn't a suggestion. I was pulled towards the door, my feet dragging. I could only hope I was as heavy as my heart suddenly felt.

"Who are you?" I managed a whisper. His grip tightened, and I shuddered at the feeling of his hand at my hip, nails digging into my skin. It would probably leave a mark. "You can't be here."

Hoping to distract him, I had raised my voice, and within the span of time it had taken him to shift his gaze to the door I had reached out, praying he was distracted enough not to see me wrap my hands around the same vase I had hidden the note he'd left me. I clutched it with desperate white-knuckled fingers, and just as my feet were beginning to slide again, I swung it backwards desperately.

The vase shattered against the side of my attackers' face, a shard cutting into my palm. The arm holding me fell away, the knife at my throat slipping with only a small scratch as proof of the threat it truly was. But I didn't care, I was already running. I grabbed a nearby pillar as I stumbled, trying to regain my balance and push myself forward, and when I pulled away the shape of my hand stayed, stained onto the marble with blood.

It would be alright. I was going to be fine. _Memphis was only a few hallways away._

I didn't make it even halfway across the room before a hand was in my hair, pulling me back. Pulling me away. I screamed. _It hurt, it hurt, and I was afraid,_ my feet dragging against the stone floor in vain as he moved us towards the balcony. Urgently now, with very little regard for my comfort now that I had potentially given him away.

I struggled, reaching both of my hands up to wrap around his wrist, nails biting into his skin deep enough to bleed. I hardly had time to worry about his blood mixing with mine where my palm had split, though I did spare a thought. _Who knew where this creep had been_. I gripped harder and hoped it hurt, that it left a scar – some sort of permeant reminder of how much of a bastard he was. Mouth open, I was struggling to draw in enough air to scream again when he spun me around, backhanding me hard enough to stop the sound clawing its' way out of my throat and making my ears ring.

Hand reaching automatically to cradle my jaw, I met the gaze of my attacker and had my fears confirmed. It was Ismir. Eyes wild, almost feral in his anger. I would have backed away if I had been able too. But he was everywhere, suffocating me, and where he wasn't, there were two other men. _Where had they come from?_ One was standing behind him, watching with sadistic glee as I tried – and failed – to get free. And the second man, he had slipped into my room through the front door… covered in blood.

Half hysterical, some small part of me realized exactly why I hadn't heard anyone moving around earlier. From that, I could reason that no one else knew this was happening. The alarm had not been raised. _Nobody had heard me scream._ They were dead. There was no one to notice something was wrong. Not until it was too late to do anything about it.

 _Memphis was more than a few hallways away._

I blinked, still dazed, and was utterly frustrated to feel tears building in the wake of my fear.

Ismir pulled me up, his face once again the cold marble mask that had so intrigued me the first time we met. How quickly he managed to get himself under control. I had to get myself out of this. It was at that point, with his men laughing at me, his mask back in place and the burning pain that pulsed along my scalp that my panic shifted to anger.

 _What do I do? What do I do?_

It was a bad idea. Really, a poor thought on my account – and I had never before known myself to be the impulsive type. I was just so angry. I felt so violated. He was assaulting me, kidnapping me. I felt entitled to taking a more vulgar stance to his actions that simply screaming for help and trying to cave his head in.

I spat at him and watched with vicious glee as his head snapped away from me, his free hand moving to wipe at his eye. It was the only time in my life I wished I had something contagious to pass on. Despite that sad fact, he seemed disgusted enough, and I spent a weightless, almost hazy minute watching his face twist with rage again before settling again into that infuriating apathy.

"Go fuck yourself!" I hissed.

He smiled at that, like my defiance amused him, like _I_ amused him. He reached out to ghost his fingers over the bruise forming on my cheekbone, hand moving down to grip my jaw hard enough to make the bone ache. "Oh Evelyn," he sighed, "it's nothing personal."

I didn't see the second blow land.

…..

I awoke to the nauseating sensation of swaying. My body tilting slightly side to side just for second before whatever was underneath me surged forward, only to have the process repeat itself. It was unpleasant – the motion, even with my eyes closed was uncomfortable. I turned onto my side, leaning over just enough to unceremoniously expel the contents of my stomach onto the floor. I didn't feel any better.

I lay curled, head half hanging off whatever I happened to be laying for what felt like a significant amount of time. Eventually, the feeling passed, and I peeled my eyes open with no small amount of difficulty. Sand had all but glued my eyelids shut, and I rubbed away the grainy texture as much as I could before peering blearily around at my surroundings.

It was dark and dank. Moisture hung in the air like a weight and I coughed. My mouth was dry and gritty, and my throat burned as though I had scrubbed it with sandpaper. The cool air, no matter how humid it might have been, was almost a relief. I looked down, noticing for the first time just how dusty I was. Sand covered me in a fine layer, falling loose from my clothes and hair as I sat up. I coughed again and bracing my feet against the wooden boards below me, pushed myself onto unsteady legs to stand.

The space I was in was small with a single support beam in the middle that split the room in half. A small grimy window was my only source of light and it illuminated nothing more than a few small crates and the cot I had been laying on shoved into the farthest corner from the door. It only took six steps to walk across the span of it completely, and even that was a trial, with me having to lean against the wall as black spots invaded my vision whenever I moved faster than a crawl.

I tried the door first and was completely unsurprised to discover it was locked from the outside. It had been wishful thinking on my part to assume otherwise. The window was too small for me to fit through, and when I finally managed to hobble over and look outside, I realized even if it had been big enough to squeeze myself out of, it would have most certainly been a terrible idea. I was surrounded by water.

A boat then. And they stuck me in what – a closet?

I had never been good with boats.

I tasted salt on the air, and the longer I stood there staring out at the blue ocean the farther my heart sank. We must have crossed the Libyan desert – which would explain why there was so much sand all over my clothes, the bastard probably hadn't bothered to properly cover me – to the Mediterranean Sea. We had most likely been sailing for quite a while. There was no land in sight, and I could hear no birds calling out to one another.

It was almost surreal. _I wasn't in Egypt anymore_. The panic that filled me at the thought was surprising with its intensity, and I started to shake as my nerves got the better of me. Egypt was familiar, Egypt I could understand, and even with Isis as an ever-constant shadow Egypt was safe.

But _this_ …I was 3000 years beyond my pay grade, heading into hostile territory, as a prisoner, and those who possibly cared enough to help me might not have even known I was gone.

Even if they did, I wasn't entirely sure who had taken me. How would Memphis begin to guess where to look for me? Would he even come looking?

 _No, I can't think like that. He will. He has to._

 _Alright, alright I need to think this through._ That day in the market Ismir and his men had claimed to be merchants from Palestine. Given the current circumstances that could hardly be true. _Where then?_ Where was he taking me, what country would be foolish enough to risk starting a war with Egypt? Because that was what was being set up here; dead guards, an attack against Memphis himself, _me._ The retaliation would be anything but peaceful.

Ismir had told me it wasn't personal, but as I prodded at the bump he had left on the back of my head I felt as though it was exactly that.

"You're finally awake."

I guess I was about to find out – because there he was. My not-so-gracious host in all his horribly attractive glory. I found my admiration of his features had dimmed somewhat after having been attacked by him. Locking the door behind him, I watched with narrowed eyes as he stashed the key away and made for the small cot I had been lying on, settling in with all the regality of a king and leaving me standing where I was by the window. _What a pompous ass._

"How long was I unconscious?" _Ugh._ Even my voice sounded horrible.

Ismir shrugged, and though his posture was relaxed and his tone light, his gaze never strayed from mine. "For the better part of the day. We boarded late last night."

My legs shook with strain, but I didn't move. I didn't want to have to be any closer to him than I was already. "Why am I here?" I asked, "Who are you? You are certainly not a merchant."

With one eyebrow raised, he laughed, "You mean you haven't guessed?" But as quick as he was to mock me, his grin was just as quick to disappear. "Foolish girl, I am Prince Ismir of Hittite. My sister Milanun was in Egypt just some weeks ago to try for the hand of your pharaoh." He hummed, and his eyes swept over me briefly, lingering on my face in a way that made me squirm. "Clearly she was unsuccessful. Egypt's tyrannical ruler choose you as his future bride, and while I can see why – what a creature you are, darling – it was still quite the insult to my kingdom. Milanun was dismissed, and shameful as that is, here is where things get really interesting – she never came home.

I questioned Memphis, of course, as days passed with no word from her or any of those of her escort. But he denied everything, insisting that she had left Egypt, and was on her way back to her family."

He stopped and looked at me as though to check to see if I was following along.

I didn't have enough time to flounder overthe 'future bride' bomb Ismir had just dropped on me, I would pick that apart later, becauseI was indeed following _._ Things were suddenly so much clearer.

Milanun was not someone I was likely to forget. Bitter and manipulative as she may have seemed, no one deserved to die like that. I would never forget it, the way she screamed as her skin blistered, turning black. The look in Isis's eyes as she watched the other girl burn. _And the smell, oh god the smell_. A charred corpse. It made my skin crawl.

I still had nightmares.

Seemingly tired of watching me tremble as I fought to keep my legs underneath me, he stood, reaching an arm out to grab me and pull me down to sit on the edge of the cot beside him. It was a terrific way to throw me off kilter, because with him suddenly so close to me, I couldn't help the way my shoulders tensed as he touched me.

He leaned in once he was comfortable, close enough that his breath brushed my ear as he whispered, "Your pharaoh is a liar."

I swallowed, "Perhaps she is simply lost, delayed." The feeble excuse was obvious, even I didn't believe myself.

Ismir shook his head, his mouth set in a grim line. "No, she is dead." And then he was pressing something into my split palm, closing my fingers over whatever it was with enough strength to reopen the wound. I looked down, eyes wide at the piece of gold jewelry in my fist. The metal was blackened and warped, a shadow of its former beauty.

"Milanun's head ornament."

He nodded and hand covering my own, dragged his thumb almost reverently across the tarnished surface. His finger came away covered in what looked like soot. "Her blood," He said softly as he caught me staring. "It was a gift from our father you know, given to her on her last birthday. Now it is the only thing I have left of her to take home. Memphis killed her, and he had the gall to lie to me about it."

Ismir finally looked away from me. "I have to tell everyone who loves her that she is gone, and it is _his_ fault."

His hands shook, and he wiped the dark stain of his sister's blood off against the blanket underneath us. He looked so vulnerable, so sad. Like the loss of his sister had devastated him. The sentimentality reminded me so much of Ryan.

"No," I said. "Memphis wouldn't – couldn't have killed her. He didn't do this." I placed my free hand over his in an attempt to comfort him. "Please, if you would just take me back to Egypt, we could investigate this together. Find out what really happened." Of course, I already knew what had happened, I just… wasn't going to tell him. "Don't start a war over a misunderstanding."

But Ismir shrugged me off, pulling his hands away from mine with a tired sigh. "It matters little now. Milanun is gone. Even if your pharaoh did not kill her himself, it happened in Egypt, in his palace, _under his protection_ and therefore he is to be held accountable. An outright attack against him would have been foolish," and here he looked to me, running a lock of my hair through his fingers, "so, I decided to take something precious away from him too. You. I took you from him, from right under his nose. I'm sure he is absolutely furious."

I was wrong, Ismir was nothing like Ryan.

He was smiling, and then the hand that was in my hair was on my shoulder, slipping down my arm. I was suddenly, painfully aware of the fact that my dress was sleeveless. My skin crawled.

"You're going to kill me." Oh my god, he was. He was going to kill me and leave my body somewhere for Memphis to find, and my family would never know what had happened to me. Well, maybe Carol would, but who was going to listen to her? This entire thing was crazy, insane. I felt numb, like I was in shock. I shrank away from him and would have stood up to get more distance between us if not for the hold he still had on my wrist.

"Kill you?" He looked surprised. "I meant what I said before Evelyn, this isn't personal. I'll let you go, drop you off on the banks of the Nile myself if you help me."

"Help you…?" I echoed.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, coming closer, a feverish light in his eyes. The broken jewelry was once again put in my line of vision. "You recognized this, you must know something, anything about what happened to Milanun while she was in Egypt. All you have to do is tell me, and you can go free. You don't even have to go back to Memphis if you don't want to. I can take you home."

It was tempting, and he looked so expectant, so sure that I would confirm his suspicions. But I was without a doubt certain that one word from me that any of what he thought was true, and Ismir would have more than enough reason to start a full-fledged war against the Egyptian Empire. _Could I risk it_?

It would perhaps be a war that Egypt could win, probably would win, seeing as they had been incredibly powerful before their fall at Rome's hands. But I had never heard of a war between Egypt and the Hittites, and I was understandably worried about being the catalyst for an event that could change history. Would I even have a home to go back to? I had no chance of knowing how far the effect of a change like this might spread.

I gripped the fabric of my dress in a clenched fist and prayed I was a good enough actor to pull this off. "I was a servant during her vist Ismir – I worked in the kitchens. I wasn't even allowed near Memphis, or any of the nobility visiting him. The only reason I recognized that at all was because I occasionally served her during the feasts held at the palace. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I can't tell you what you want to hear."

I must have hesitated for a second too long, or given something away, because the next thing I knew, Ismirs' face had closed off completely. Cold and disappointed, he pulled away from me. "Can't or won't? Don't lie to me Evelyn, I'm in no mood to be deceived. So, I'll ask you again; what happened to Milanun?"

The change was so sudden, so drastic, that for a moment it was as though I was standing at the edge of a precipice, about to fall in. A tiny animalistic part of me whispered that I was staring into the eyes of a predator, ready to pounce at the first sign of weakness. My pulse was rapid and my breathing shallow, but I couldn't tell him, no matter how scared I was. "I can't tell you what I don't know."

It was as though someone had flipped on a switch inside his mind labeled 'crazy'. There was a second of stunned silence, as if the idea that I would stick to my answer hadn't crossed his mind. And then he was angry and shouting, pulling me across the room even as I threw all of my weight against him.

"Do you love Memphis so much you would lie for him, would let him get away with murder? As much as I admire your loyalty, I have no patience for it now."

I fought against his hold, "I'm telling the truth Ismir, I swear!"

But he was too far gone to hear me. He had grabbed a rope, and with one hand had looped it around the beam in the middle of the room and, forcing me to my knees, had begun to wrap my wrists until I was well and truly trapped.

He laughed. "You will tell me."

"No, no!" I cried, "I don't know, I swear!" Unable to pull my arms free I could only struggle in vain as he unlocked the door and yelled out for something I was too panicked to catch. "I don't know!"

One of the men that had been in my room when they had kidnapped me was there in the doorway, and without sparing me a glance handed Ismir a whip. An intimidating length of braided leather tipped at the end with bits of metal. _He won't kill me, but he'll certainly make me wish he had_. He laughed again when I started to cry.

"Willing to lie indeed. But let us see just how long you are willing to bleed for him. I'll get the truth Evelyn, even if I have to beat it out of you."

 _No matter how scared I am I can't tell him. I can't I can't I can't I can't…_


	19. Chapter 17

A/N

So, I've been away for a while.

Umm… yell at me in a review?

 **xXx**

"Search the city, search every city! I want no stone left unturned."

Memphis didn't know where he was going, but he knew he couldn't stand still. He hated this feeling, that utter sense of hopelessness that came with the knowledge that Evie was gone. Made even worse by the fact that they had waited to tell him – waited until hours after she had disappeared and the sun was high enough in the sky to be blinding and _even then,_ the news had been delivered reluctantly.

He scoffed because they knew, they all knew how important she was. Minue, Imhotep, every priest and advisor that followed at his heels and simpered like the dogs they were _knew._ He could feel the rage, the fear, as though a steel band had wrapped around his heart, his lungs, making it impossible to think or breath beyond the fact that she wasn't here. _With him. Where it was safe._

"This shouldn't have happened."

 _I blame you_. It hung in the air between them like fog.

Minue followed after his king, blinking as they stepped out from the shaded pavilion and into the harsh desert sun.

"Your Majesty…" He didn't want to have to be the one to say it, to mention what was clear to see for everyone to see but his king. The bodies they had found, the blood in her rooms, a shattered vase. She had fought them, at least there was that. At least no one could say she had gone with them willingly.

"She… Evie is most likely not in Egypt anymore, and if she isn't, we have no way of telling where she might have been taken." _If she was taken anywhere at all._ "Unasu is missing as well, I believe that he followed them."

"I want to know how this happened, Minue. How a group of armed men managed to break into the most heavily guarded area of my palace and steal my future wife."

A demand, Memphis was beyond questioning. Minue hesitated – because gods he didn't want to answer – then swallowed, "The guards last night… there were less men than there should have been outside Evie's rooms. I was ordered to relocate most of my patrols to wherever you were."

"So, there was no one but the two men personally assigned to Evie outside her rooms that night." Memphis stopped, "And under whose authority was this order given?"

A rhetoric question, but one he was expected to answer nonetheless.

"Your sister gave me my orders."

He didn't even need to see his kings face to feel just how angry he was. It was clear in the line of his shoulders, the shake of his hands. Minue wanted to apologize – it was on the tip of his tongue. And it felt as though that was all he had been doing lately, apologizing. Making mistakes. Soon enough there would be a mistake he wouldn't be able to fix or make better.

But he loved her _– Isis_ – in all her cruel cold glory, he loved her. Would do anything, be anything if it meant she would spare him a glance. But this… he didn't want to believe that Isis might have been a part of Evie's kidnapping, no matter how much harder it was getting to deny that that was true.

"You continue to be a disappointment Minue, and I am beginning to see a pattern to your actions, one that you should carefully consider moving forward." Memphis stopped, but not to look at him, no. He laughed, and it was a grating, broken sound. "Do you think she screamed for me? Hoping that I would come and save her."

Minue would have hung his head in shame at the words, but Memphis was moving again, and he was expected to keep up. Imhotep was waiting for them by the palace gates, stone-faced and grim. The group of soldiers behind him all silent as the grave. He said nothing as they approached, simply held out a hand. Evie's cloak was clutched in his white knuckled grasp, covered in red. There was no way to hide how the older man's hands shook as Memphis took it from him.

There was a weighted pause, and as Imhotep shifted the loose sand beneath his feet moved with a sound that was harsh in the silence that followed. "Sire, she might be dead – "

"She isn't."

"– and if she is, then this is a declaration of war against Egypt. We should focus on building up our defenses and… you need to come to terms with the fact that there is a chance we might not find her."

" _She isn't dead._ " Memphis insisted. "If she was it would have been much more public than this. They wouldn't have snuck in quietly in the middle of the night. She wouldn't have disappeared with them. They would have left her somewhere for me to find, but they didn't, so she isn't dead."

"Public?" One of the soldiers spoke up, "It is already public. Thebes is already full of rumors." The others behind him nodded in agreement. "The whole city is an uproar over Lady Evelyn's kidnapping. Before long there will be a _public_ call for blood."

They quieted under Imhotep's glare, but the damage had been done.

"Then I shall go get her myself." Memphis turned, eyes wide, to call for his horse.

Minue jumped in before he could, "You are still injured, and a convoy from Syria is on its way. We can't afford to lose any of our potential allies. You need to stay here."

He wasn't deterred. "Isis can handle it."

Imhotep cringed at thought and was about to explain just how terrible an idea that was when Isis came up behind them. She paused behind her brothers' shoulder, and the radiant smile she wore just for him dimmed as her gaze swept over their group.

"What can I handle?" She reached out to touch him, to run her hand over his arm. He pulled away, and it took all of Isis's self-control to not let just how angry that made her show.

"I want you to deal with the Syrians while I look for Evie." He didn't look at her as he said it, and it wasn't a question.

Isis scoffed, her disbelief evident, "Go look for her? But she's gone!" Her voice had risen, and by the end she was shouting. Months of suppressed anger bubbling out. That bitch might finally be out of their lives for good, and he wanted to go get her. No, no, she wasn't about to let him ruin something she had so carefully planned. _Not for her._

The others had all conveniently vanished as she started to yell, and now they stood alone. Memphis wished it was that easy for him. Instead he was stuck listening to one of his sister's famous tantrums.

"She's a slave! Useless, replaceable!" She was crying now, "You don't need her. You have me, and I love you. I love so much more than she ever could." Isis grabbed his arm to pull him to her. "And you can have me, now. All of me."

He had no patience for this. He turned on her, and upon shaking her off the look on his face would have frightened anyone else away. "Evie is not a slave! Isis you hav-"

"Yes, she is!" Isis screamed, interrupting him. He wasn't getting it. Why couldn't he understand? She reached out, wanting to hit him, hoping to scrape her nails against his cheek. She wanted to make him bleed like she was. "She is a slave, and tradition dictates that any female slave stolen becomes the property of the man that steals her."

Memphis caught her wrist before her hand could make contact with his face, and his grip hurt, but Isis just laughed again, and the tears dripped off her chin like a flood to land at their feet. "That is how you got her isn't it? You stole her and said that she was yours. Well now she isn't yours anymore."

"Isis," Memphis sighed, "Evie hasn't been a slave for a long time, you know this. She is so much more than that." He shifted his hold, grabbing both her arms to keep her still so she would listen. For the first time in her life she would actually hear and understand what he was going to say. "I want, need, crave all that she is. Her heart, her soul, her body, her mind. All of it. She exists, and I am better for it. I would do anything, be anything, for her. That she would feel the same way about me that I do about her."

He stopped, breathing hard. "How I feel about her..." His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and she closed her eyes against the image, the words she knew he was going to say. "I love her."

"Love?" She choked on the word. "What do you know of it?"

But he just frowned, looking disappointed. As though he had the right to be even though it was her heart that was breaking. "I am going to marry her, Isis, and there is nothing you can do or say that is going to change my mind."

"I don't want to lose you to her. I won't." But she was. She could see it now – it was too late.

"Oh Isis," Memphis ran a hand through his hair, finally letting go. "You can't lose what you never had."

 _It had always been too late._

 **xXx**

Stepping onto solid ground again was a relief. No more swaying, no more salt, no more of this stupid boat. Not that it really mattered, the second my foot landed on the dock Ismir was there, a platoon of armed guards behind him. I would have laughed if breathing hadn't hurt.

 _I mean really, where was I going to go_? My dress was sticky with blood, plastered onto my shoulders and back in a dark stain that chaffed where it began to dry. My face was red and tear-streaked. I looked like what I was, a prisoner, and not a well-treated one. I searched the faces of the men around me, hoping for anything – a pitying glance, even one of desire if it meant I had someone I could use later. I saw nothing but stone masks and contempt.

Ismirs' hand circled my arm, burning hot, and I flinched. "Let's go," he bent down to look at me, lips tilting up in a smirk as he felt me shake in his hold, "we don't have all day. And I don't know about you, but I am anxious to return home." He stayed with me, in the middle of the group of armed men surrounding us, and it was only his grip on me that kept me standing.

He half carried, half dragged me along and into the streets of his kingdom, stopping every now and then to point out a communal garden he liked to visit, a bakery with the best bread in town, a tailor's shop with the finest fabrics. _The gift I gave you the first time we met came from there._ Eventually he had to slip an arm around my waist just to keep me upright, and I wondered at the likelihood of me fainting as he told me about the spice market we had just walked by.

But I wasn't listening. He wasn't doing this for my benefit – this casual tour of his home, no, it was for the crowd of civilians that had followed us with their eyes the second we had entered the city. It was for the men that stepped forward to shake his hand and welcome him home, all the while their gazes would land on me with grim self-satisfied understanding and they would nod, like they understood and leave me hanging in his grasp.

I was a joke, a pawn, a statement. And Ismir was going to make sure his entire kingdom knew what he was trying to say.

His home was beautiful, and that was worse somehow. That these people, in their colorful silks and cottons could, and indeed would, stand by as I stumbled through their cobblestone streets, leaving a trail of red behind me. I stared at them all as we moved past them, daring them to catch my eye. None of them did, and I found my concentration waning, their bright colors blurring the longer I looked.

And then there was a moment where he pulled too hard and I stumbled. His hand slipped across the slope of my lower back as he caught me, and I sobbed at the contact of my torn dress digging into the open skin. He didn't stop – we were almost there, the doors of the palace looming above us with frightful finality. I could feel him shift against me however, and I wondered if the grime and blood that stained me from head to toe had stained him too.

It was hot here too, after all. Not the dry, acrid heat that I so fondly associated with Egypt, nor the humid heat the last few months had started to become as the Nile flooded, but something altogether different. It was humid here to be sure, like wading through water as we moved, every breath felt weighted as it was pulled into my lungs. A step away from drowning with no relief. Combined with the heat and I could feel the water settle over my skin, a fine sheen of sweat that dripped into my eyes and stung the gashes that spanned much of my back. It took old blood with it, and I thought I could see a dark rust colored stain against the pale of Ismirs robes where he had touched me.

Ismir sneered at the mess, at me, "We'll both have to bathe."

The gates opened for him, and I caught the brief flash of sunlight on polished armor reflect from a wall above us. We stepped through and as the doors began to close behind us, I felt a keen sort of loss. It was unexpected, this pain. And just as unexpected was the heart-retching sense of missing something _. Memphis_. _I missed him._

Perhaps it was because I had never felt more alone than I had in this moment and wanted something familiar. When exactly he had become familiar, I didn't know, but I would have given anything to have it be his arm around me, his palace I was entering.

But it wasn't.

Ismir swept me inside, finally passing me into the arms of someone else now that he didn't need to put on a show. I fell into strong arms and soft fabric, and a steadying hand lay against my shoulder. I sank into the touch, the first one in forever that seemed to want to do me no real harm, only to have it pull away. "You'll take care of this won't you?" He was talking over me, and I turned to see whoever it was that he had shoved me onto.

A tall, stately woman was glaring down at me, and I stilled under her pale eyed stare. "Yes," she sniffed and pulled at my dress, exposing the marks visible along my shoulders. Her hand came away covered in red. "I'll do what I can."

Ismir nodded. "Good, good. She should be given the best care available during her stay with us."

I shifted uneasily. If what I had seen so far was the Hittite extension of decent care than I wasn't so sure I wanted whatever else they had to offer. There was very little time to deliberate however, because soon he was pressing in, surrounding me in that way he did – a way I was decidedly against. Leaning away, I bumped into the woman at my back and was struck with the feeling that I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He reached out to run a finger down my cheek and past my jaw, eventually slipping his hand around my throat, the pad of his thumb brushing over the beat of my pulse.

"I'll visit you later, after meeting with my parents."

The words were heavy, and he looked so sad. It was times like these that reminded me that Ismir was just a man, a young one even – not much older than I was. I saw tears form, and he turned away, and it all felt so human. My hand had lifted to cover his own before I had even thought to move it. "I am sorry for the news you bring them." I whispered, suddenly too shy to meet his eyes. I looked down, peeking through my hair to gauge his reaction. He looked surprised, at first, and then curious. I felt the rough callous of his fingers on my own as he turned them over.

"Then help me change it." There were no demands now, only pleading. I closed my eyes as they started to water, my frustration boiling over.

"I can't tell you what I don't know." I said it softly, as though that would soften the blow. "And I'm sorry, Ismir. I am so, so sorry."

"So am I." He murmured, and when he looked at me again there was something altogether different peering back at me. He stepped closer, and there was a part of me that screamed _too close, too close_ , but that same part was too scared to do anything about it. I was an inch away from running when a second later he straightened, dropping my hand. He moved as though someone had poured water over him, shaking his head and running a hand over his eyes.

"Yes well, it's time to face the music." He didn't bow, or flirt or grin like I thought he might, he simply turned, and within a few seconds rounded a corner and was lost to my sight. I sighed, and a weight I hadn't known I was carrying was lifted from my chest.

A hand landed on my shoulder, startling me, and I tore my gaze away from where he disappeared. The woman Ismir had pushed me into wasn't frowning anymore, now she just looked sad. "Come child, let's get you cleaned up."

We went deeper into the palace, and I shivered. Gone were the open walkways and light linens of Memphis's palace – instead I now faced a fortress of grey stone. Lit torches provided light where there were no windows, and thick tapestries covered the walls to keep out a chill I could feel despite the hot weather outside.

Minutes passed in uncomfortable silence, and I searched for something to say only to come up blank. I opened my mouth, maybe to apologize again, ask where we were going, but another glance at her face dispelled any notion I might have had of a conversation. My jaw snapped closed with a snap and stayed that way while we walked. By the time we stopped outside a large dark wooden door I was stiff as a board, practically vibrating from the tension.

She opened it – a series of complicated lock with a set of keys she pulled from a pouch tied to her dress. I was ushered inside with little fanfare where three other girls stood waiting, bandages and fresh clothing in hand. They made short work of my ruined dress, and I watched in stony silence as it was thrown into a fireplace, turned to ash in a flash of black smoke. I was left to stand in the middle of the room while they prodded at my open wounds. My face burned with embarrassment, but none of the others paid me any mind. They moved with a quiet, reluctant efficiency, and within an hour I was dressed again, clean and dry and bandaged tight enough that it hurt to breathe.

It wasn't until they all left, the locks of the door sliding into place behind them that I started to cry. Great heaving sobs I was glad no one else would ever see. I cried until the light in the room had faded. I fell asleep with red eyes and wet cheeks.

I dreamed of home, and what home was blurred. Memphis reached for me even as Ryan called me back. _I don't know what to do anymore._


	20. Chapter 18

"I don't want to."

I glared in what I hoped was an intimidating display of refusal, a stubborn tilt to my jaw, my teeth bared, and I waited with bated breath for him to come just a bit closer. _I swear to whatever God is willing to listen that I'll bite him._ I would too. "You come any closer to me with that thing and I can't promise you that you'll come away from this encounter unscathed." I could feel his irritation from across the room and every ounce of it was deserved.

"It's a dress dearest, and nothing so unfortunate that you'll be embarrassed to be seen in it." Ismir was pouting, holding the bundle of fabric out towards me with a hurt look on his face. "I picked it out especially for you." He moved just a bit closer, voice taking on a pleading tone, "Please?"

 _Yeah right._ I scoffed, but I had backed myself into a corner. There was nowhere left for me to run. I felt like a cornered animal as he closed in, and the grin on his face was downright lecherous. I had snatched a pillow off the bed as I had rushed past it and held it up now like a shield. A soft fluffy shield. _I could suffocate him with it. Cover his stupid smug face and keep it there until he stopped breathing._

I grinned at the thought, feral and mean, but Ismir just sighed, looking like he was fighting off a particularly intense eye roll. "Soft silk and pretty colors to match your eyes, the latest fashion – all the things women like about dresses." He frowned at me, "Or should like. You are a woman, aren't you?" He stopped, eyes sweeping over me in a way that made my face burn. He opened his mouth, ready to say something else that I could only assume was equally as insulting. The look on my face must have been enough to make him change his mind. He faltered, "Nevermind." There was a moment of weighted unhappy silence. "Really, would it be so bad to try it on?"

"Yes." I snarled, beyond fed up. "It would be that bad. It would be awful, traumatizing, possibly humiliating. And it would be all of these things simply because you're making me wear it when I don't want to. _You_ wear it if you think it's so nice."

"You don't want to wear it because you don't want to go where we're going, not because you don't like the dress."

"Shut up."

He sighed and held it out again, closer now. I lashed out, smacking his arm away. He fumbled, almost dropping the dress. Scowling at me and looking indignant, he rubbed the back of his hand. "That hurt."

I rolled my eyes at his theatrics. "Don't be such a baby. I barely touched you."

"I am not acting like a baby, you're the one who's behaving like an uncouth heathen." He sniffed and looked down his nose at me, "Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Where did Memphis find you? Some backwater alley behind a brothel? At the _harbor_? I wouldn't be surprised, you're not exactly a picture of class."

"Did you just inadvertently call me a prostitute?" Asking felt unnecessary. We both knew that what he really meant was something so much worse. And true, but he didn't know that.

Mouth dropping open, I could only stare at him in shock, a huff of disbelief falling from numb lips. Maybe he knew, maybe he could see that he had crossed a line, because he paled at the hurt on my face, looking suddenly regretful. Opening and closing his mouth a few times, Ismir eventually settled for placing a hand on my shoulder. There was a mumbled apology, I was sure – or maybe there wasn't – I wasn't paying attention. The hurt at his words had morphed into anger. Anger at myself for feeling hurt in the first place. What he thought didn't matter, shouldn't matter. Especially considering that anything that he thought was so far from the truth of my situation that it was almost laughable.

 _Almost, but not quite._

I blamed Ismir for this. This confusing shift in my own emotions. I cursed him for being surprisingly charismatic, easy to get along with. _Friend or fanatic?_ I wished he would choose.

It was just that he… he had a way about him that made it so easy to forget that I was an unwilling guest here. He teased me like Rodney might have, and those first few days after arriving, after the boat… he had kept his distance and nothing, _nothing_ about him had been serious. Only slightly patronizing grins and slightly insulting jokes. That frightening, demented part of him that I had suffered on the trip here from Egypt was gone, the only thing left of it my own memories. A faded shadow that hovered in the corner of my eye. Ignorable, forgettable.

It was his fault… and mine that that was exactly what had started to happen.

Stupid. I was so _stupid._

"Evie…" I shoved his hand away and turned, not wanting him to see my face as I spiraled.

 _It was probably overexposure, isolated as I was from everyone but him. It was him, just him, all the time. I couldn't escape him._ I could feel tears building, and I wiped at my eyes, dragging my knuckles harshly over my cheeks. _Stockholm syndrome. It had to be._ Perhaps not a normal response, but an understandable one. Ismir was as volatile a man as I had ever met. Adapt or die felt like an option. One of my options. And if the alternatives were painful, possibly fatal… could I really be held at fault for liking him just a tiny bit? _Endear yourself to your captor and you might just make it out alive._

Maybe I could. We weren't friends, that much was clear. To forget that was stupid. This whole situation was stupid. Ismir wanting to dress me up and parade me in front of his family like a prize – because that's what I was – was so, so stupid. _Damn him._

And then suddenly I felt even worse, because this wasn't the first time I had been held captive, was it? Oh God, Isis was basically Ismir as a woman – both deceptive and psychopathic as hell, and now I was Carol. Naïve and far too trusting, getting pulled in by someone I really shouldn't be. If I had thought I was above a nice smile and pretty eyes than I was fooling myself. _I was shallower than a goddamn kiddie pool._ And this time there was no Memphis to act as a buffer. Something that moments like these made all too apparent, when we both slipped up and reality came crashing back down. This wasn't where I was supposed to be, we weren't friends and I missed Memphis. _God, I missed him._

 _"Evelyn."_

Memphis had never treated me like this, not even at first – the threat of violence had always been from someone else. He had used words to hurt us, and even then, there was something there behind his eyes as he looked at me. _Obsession, possession, greed._ Whatever it was had been enough for him to want us physically safe at least.

Then he was sick, and mostly unconscious, and by the time he was well again and fully able to abuse his power over me I was too involved, _he_ was too involved to want to. And then he had become sort of nice, sort of charming, and his overwhelming ego became only sort of irritating. Memphis, after a while, had stopped demanding from me what I wasn't willing to give and had started asking me for it instead.

 _And I had agreed. That night he had held me, whispering that he would take of me if I would let him. It felt so good to give in, to nod and let somebody else be the one to deal with the shitstorm everything had turned into. Carol was gone, and I was alone, so I had agreed._

"Evelyn!" A hand closed around my upper arm, nails digging into my skin. I yelped in surprise as Ismir pulled me towards him, face serious, that shadow of regret still there. "That was uncalled for." He admitted, and I supposed that that was as much of an apology as I would get. He waited, just looking at me and after another moment I nodded, noticing with detached curiosity the way his shoulder slumped in relief. He grinned, half-hearted though it was, and held the dress up again, shaking it in my direction. "If you're done spiraling into despair?"

I sniffed, "I never said I was spiraling."

"Ah." He sighed and took a step back. The hand on my arm slid down until he could curve his palm around my own unresponsive fingers. My hand shook, and I could tell by the way his eyes glanced down that he had noticed. He cleared his throat, "Come now, you are being unnecessarily dramatic and difficult, and I am in no mood to deal with another one of your childish tantrums. I mean really, try to see this from my perspective–"

I had to fight off a tremulous smile. _He was changing the subject_.

I jumped on the chance and wanting this to be over I snarled, already sputtering, "Childish!? Another?!" The fingers of my free hand clenched around the soft velvet of the pillow I was still holding and then I threw it at him, hoping to hit his head. Yet despite my good aim he dodged, and landing a few feet away, the pillow mocked me with its absolute uselessness. I scowled as Ismir laughed.

He continued on as though I hadn't said or done anything at all, "Yes childish. You broke a window, a barred window. If you wanted my attention that badly you could have just said something." He shrugged, "Now here I am, obliging your desperate wish to spend time with me. The least you could do is cooperate. So, wear the pretty dress and come to dinner with me."

A wordless shriek of frustration – _maybe a laugh_ – tore its way from my lips, "I wasn't trying to get your attention, you freak, I was trying to escape!"

Waking up the day after arriving here had been hard. So, so hard. A part of me, that part that lay suspended between asleep and awake had reassured itself that everything that had happened had been a dream, a nightmare. And I was fine, safe and sound and Memphis was going to be right there, irritated as he always was that I had kept him waiting. _"You should just move into my rooms,"_ he'd grumble, _"then I wouldn't have to wait to see you, you would already be there."_ And I would laugh and tell him no even as he tugged on a piece of my hair in retribution for denying him something he wanted.

But even that feeling of being suspended in limbo faded, and I woke up, knowing for certain I wasn't dreaming. The room was unfamiliar and cold, everything hurt. My back, my eyes, my head, _my heart._ I wanted to wallow, maybe even cry some more, but there was a fearful itch under my skin, one that thrummed along my nerves with urgent need, telling me to get out. Out of here, out of town, out of dodge.

I listened. I had set to searching for a way out, the ominous sound of the lock turning a constant concern despite how early it was in the morning. _He could come in at any moment, and he'll know just by looking what I'm trying to do._ I found myself casting the heavy wooden door anxious glances even as I searched the room.

The barred windows had been a blessing, a sign that the universe was giving me a tiny bit of slack after the total crap-fest that had been my life ever since being sent back in time. _Bronze bars._ I could have wept at the sight. A ripped piece of fabric from my dress and a splintered chair leg were all I needed to snap those bars in half. _Ryan would have been so proud._ Breaking them had been easy. Bending them in a way that I wouldn't accidentally impale myself as I tried to get out? Not so much.

In retrospect, I should have waited, should have let Ismir become comfortable with the idea of me as his captive, that I was going anywhere, and left at night, when it was harder to get caught and easier to sneak around. I didn't. _Idiot. A desperate, panicked idiot._ That itch was unrelenting, a slow torture. _Leave. Leave right now._

I had managed to widen it enough to squeeze my upper body through, the blunt edge of one bar pressing painfully into my stomach. I had only wanted to see how far I would fall, and though the distance made me dizzy, it was doable. _Bend your knees, and you'll be fine._ Empty reassurances, but it made me feel just a smidge better about the 'get out of the palace' part of my escape.

That was how Ismir found me, hanging halfway out of the window, muttering to myself. I couldn't have been more embarrassed if I had tried. Hearing them enter the room had been like being doused in ice water. They were outraged, and my face only flared brighter as his hands curled around my waist, pulling me back with such force I lost my breath long before he threw me to the ground.

The shouting match that followed was one sided and bitter, and multiple threats, bruises and one split lip later I was being led to yet another room – this one with no windows, this one directly connected to Ismirs own quarters. I shuddered as he told me; skin crawling at the very idea of being closer to this man. I shuddered in an altogether more horrified way at the smile he wore when he told me that _. "I'll be right next door."_

I wouldn't be getting any sleep for a long, long time.

 _"To better keep an eye on you."_ He had shoved me inside, eyes sweeping over my sprawled form with disdain. "You are too clever a girl it seems, to treat like a normal prisoner. I am I must admit, impressed. But make no mistake, try such a thing again and the dungeons will be your next and final stop inside my palace."

That had been two weeks ago, and I had been forced to suffer Ismirs company ever since. How long these few weeks had been.

He laughed at my outburst, "How unfortunate that gaining my undivided attention was the only thing you managed to do."

"I would have gotten out," I said petulantly. "Snuck my way onto a boat in the harbor and left you none the wiser."

We both knew that wasn't true, and though Ismir had raised an eyebrow he didn't comment on my lie any more than to snort and send an unimpressed smirk my way. He let the dress fall open, holding it up for my inspection and I scowled even harder because _damn it,_ it was pretty, and there was a part of me that wanted to sigh with feminine delight. He had snuck closer as I was unwillingly admiring the stupid thing, and held it up against me, the rough callouses of his fingers brushing my shoulders.

"Humor me," he whispered, and all of a sudden, I felt very small and womanly and boxed in. He was too warm, too close, too _there._ He was all up in my space and he smelled nice - _was it cinnamon? -_ and I was so angry at myself for noticing. This man had kidnapped me, threatened me, lied to me, beat me – had for the majority of our acquaintance been an absolutely terrible person. I should not be thinking that he smelled nice, or that his hair looked soft and that he had nice eyes. I should not be arguing with him like we were old friends instead of captor and captee. This was messed up. I had a screw loose. I had finally lost my mind. _What is wrong with me?_

I could feel the heat in my cheeks as I blushed, and I saw in his face that he was waiting for me to crumble and give in. But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Instead I sniffed, pointing my nose into the air and turning away from him.

"It's ugly."

He frowned, looking insulted, "You're ugly."

I rolled my eyes, "Oh, how deeply your sharp wit wounds me."

"You're only saying it's ugly to spite me."

"No, I said it's ugly because that's my opinion."

"Well then it's a good thing your opinion doesn't matter. Now stop being such a witch and put it on. We're going to be late." He abandoned all sense of decorum, and clearly out of patience, shoved the dress into my hands. I caught it automatically before it could hit the floor. "And I don't want to hear how you don't care. Put it on yourself or I'll put it on for you." He meant it, and after a few tense minutes of silence my shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Fine." I pushed him back, edging around him to get to the dressing screen on the other side of the room. Knowing he wouldn't leave to let me get dressed in peace, I threatened him with disembowelment should he try to peek and slipped behind it, painfully aware that it was only a couple pieces of wood that separated us as I changed.

"Why am I going to dinner with you exactly?" I asked, voice muffled as I pulled the first part of the dress on. A fitted dark blue chemise that covered me from wrist to ankle. Light weight and soft it was clingier than I had expected, exposing my figure in a way that made me uncomfortable. It hugged my torso and dropped off at my hips, a rather risqué choice for the current time period. I ran a hand over the skirt, marveling at the texture and wondered, cheeks once again stained red, how and when Ismir had managed to take my measurements. It fit far too well to have been pure coincidence.

"Politics, mostly." Ismir replied. "You are a rather well-known figurehead outside of Egypt, you know. Daughter of the Nile, a representation of life itself. A great beauty that managed to capture the heart of the pharaoh if the rumors are to be believed, which I'm quite certain they are. To the people of Egypt, you are divine, and to those of us outside of Egypt… you are a symbol."

"A symbol?" I interrupted, "Should I be insulted?" The outer part of the dress was next, shorter than the first and heavy, it slipped completely over one shoulder and clasped closed at the other with small metal buttons, leaving the left side of my body exposed. I frowned, "I don't think I did this right." I stretched the fabric out, looking for a tie or clip to close it with and finding none. It would swing as I walked, exposing the dip of my waist, the curve of my hip. The longer I looked the more I came to think that that very fact was deliberate. "Ismir?"

"Yes?"

"I'm beginning to feel as though I'm meant to be on display." I stepped out, still pulling at the cloth in a vain attempt to get it to cover more. "I don't think this is very appropriate."

He grinned, and the look on his face was downright lewd. "My dear, you are most defiantly on display." Suspicions confirmed, I opened my mouth to spit a few choice words at him, none of them ladylike, and wondered if I could land a good smack before he could stop me. Laughing, he held up a hand before I could say anything, "Would it help if I told you it was entirely for my own benefit?"

"No. That does not help at all you pervert!" A new thought popped into my head, and I paled, face drawn in abject horror. "You weren't just being mean. This is how prostitutes dress here, isn't it?" I turned around, ready to go back behind the screen, take this thing off, and burn it. "I swear to God if you mean to put me up for sale…"

"No, No!" Ismir assured, grabbing my arm and spinning me back around, "This isn't what prostitutes wear! It's a nice, well-respected lady's dress. You're not for sale."

"Good." There was a moment of tense silence as I struggled to get my heart back under control. He said whatever he liked, oftentimes without thought to my feelings, but the thought that that was his intention for me here was terrifying in a way that torture wasn't.

Ismir grinned, "You shouldn't worry, even if you were for sale –" he winked, "– no one would outbid me." Surprisingly the sentiment didn't make me feel better.

"… that's it, I'm not going."

Quick as a flash he grabbed me, arm around my waist as he lifted me bodily off the floor. Before I could blink, we were outside my rooms – my first time since coming here – and the sound of the door locking echoed. Tucking the key into his robes Ismir shrugged, "Too late, we're already outside." He reached out to touch my hair, lifting a curl off my shoulder. "I'll have one of my sisters' maids do your hair."

Ignoring my indignant look, he held out his arm, eventually grabbing and settling my hand into the crook of his elbow when it became clear I wouldn't be doing it myself.

"Try not to look so much like you're marching to your own execution. This is going to be fun."

I didn't believe him.

 **xXx**

Kesi slipped through the gates of the palace unseen and silent, hands fisted in her dress and her head down. When Henuttawy had asked for a volunteer to go to the market she had jumped at the chance eagerly. She was so sick of the atmosphere, the very air inside the palace was weighted, and everyone was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Kesi just wasn't sure whether the other shoe would be Evie coming back or Memphis having a complete breakdown.

The thought of Evie was bittersweet, and Kesi slowed, eventually stopping in the arched of a shaded doorway, safely out of the way of the carriages and people that clogged the streets. She felt…guilty, and sad. The weeks that Evie had worked with her in the kitchen had been so nice, and she thought they had developed the beginnings of a friendship. They spent hours together every day, and Evie had such a sharp wit and kind disposition that it was hard not to like her. And everybody did, for the most part. She got along well with everyone she worked with, and the only people she didn't seem to like were the priests and the very people she worked for. But Kesi had seen her come back from one too many a meeting with the king or his sister with red eyes and bruises to think that everything was fine.

She had been just like all the rest of them, in the beginning. Worn down and tired, getting up every day because she had to, and not because she wanted to. She talked about her sister a lot – who Kesi had never met but had seen before doing various chores around the palace – and though Evie never outright told her, and she herself hadn't ever asked, Kesi thought their reason for being in the palace seemed to revolve around Carol, and that Evie couldn't decide if she was angry about it or not.

 _Their situation was a bit different from hers,_ she mused. After all, she had been born to this life, had grown up knowing that being a servant in the palace was a far better life than many others had. Baking bread and scrubbing pots was far better than working the fields or on one of the pharaohs construction sites, in her opinion. And she was clothed and fed, given a place to sleep. It was enough, and she was happy. She had told Evie as such, tried to convince her on those days where her melancholy was enough to drown them both that it really wasn't so bad.

 _"Wasn't it, though?"_ Evie had asked, and she told her as they were working late one night that she and Carol came from a very different sort of place than Egypt. That Kesi could have guessed; both girls looked so different from everyone else, they looked almost strange in a captivating sort of way, all gold and blue _._ Evie told her that they had had a very different life too, before they came here. _"We were stolen_." She had said, and the dim flames from the ovens made her look ghostly and grim as she leaned forward. _"We got lost you see. Our family was further down the Nile, our brother doing business with some of the locals. There was an accident, and Carol and I fell into the river and were swept away."_

She asked what had happened, that she and Carol hadn't made it back to their family when they were so close. Evie had shrugged and sighed, _"Memphis happened. We were staying in Gosen when he found us, trying to find a way to Thebes so we could get back up river. There was no reasoning with him, and Carol and I, we had no choice, no power. Our family could do nothing, they most likely think that we drowned that day, so when Memphis dragged us back here… that was that."_

Evie stopped talking then, and Kesi left her to her silence. It was sad, what had happened to them, and unfair. But Memphis was a powerful man, and he wanted her, and if her family thought they were dead…

She didn't try to convince Evie of anything after that. And for a while life continued, and there were good days and bad days. They settled into a routine and Kesi thought, privately of course, that her friend would learn to be happy.

But their facsimile of peace hadn't lasted long, and before she really knew it the palace was in an uproar and the pharaoh was sick. _A snake,_ the servants had whispered to each other. _A venom with no cure._ Evie had been there, and she had saved his life. Cured the incurable. Kesi hadn't seen her much in the time that followed, and then she didn't see her at all. Her friend had managed to step over the line that separated the servants and the upper class, and because of that everything changed.

Evie suddenly wasn't her friend anymore, she was nobility. Above her. The common folk spoke of divinity, and of a prophecy regarding stars and the Nile and a girl bringing glory and prosperity to Egypt that Evie seemed to flawlessly fit into.

It had all happened so quickly, and to Kesi it felt a bit like being abandoned. Which she knew was foolish, but she just couldn't help it. _How was this for unfair?_ She should have been happy for her, that maybe things would be better now that she wasn't a slave but something more. The others were happy for her, they all jumped at the chance to serve her and ask what it was like on the other side. Henuttawy had grinned and hugged her, told her how lovely she looked. The older woman joked that Evie would give Isis a run for her money as the palace beauty and she had blushed and laughed. She should have been happy for her, and she was, truly. But it had been drowned out initially by a spike of envy that she couldn't control. _That could be me_. But it wasn't.

She was envious, because wasn't what Evie now had what every girl dreamed of? Or at least all the girls she knew. To be lifted above your station by Prince Charming and fall in love, to be taken care of and have a better life than the one you had before. And maybe Memphis wasn't so charming, but he was handsome and a king – which was better than a prince… and he was better. Ever since Evie had shown up, he had started to change, no longer as volatile or cruel as he had been. He was so invested in her that he hardly had time for anyone else.

Kesi knew she was being petty, and more than a little naïve, but she just couldn't stop. She pushed Evie away after that. Had ignored all her smiles and questions. It just wasn't the same, and every time Kesi looked at her all she could see was something she desperately wanted too. It made her temper short and her demeanor cold, and she could see that Evie was hurt by it. She didn't understand what had changed, only that something had.

Carol was gone not long after that, and Evie was a mess that wouldn't come out of her room. The entire palace had heard him yelling and seen him running through the halls with her in his arms the night her sister disappeared. It had been romantic, from the outside. He'd taken her to his rooms. Sure, he had left soon after, but it was the sentiment of it that mattered.

A whole mess of crap happened after that and now we were here, and this time it was Evie that was gone.

 _Gods, this was all such a disaster._ Kesi could feel frustrated tears building. She had been so cold to her, and now it might be too late to take it back. She took a deep breath and rubbed the heels of her palms into her eyes.

 _"It is an outrage, an insult to Egypt itself. The pharaoh has to do something."_

 _"I know. I heard an entire group of foreign soldiers snuck in to kidnap her. That they had to beat her unconscious to get her out of the palace."_ A man and his wife walked past, voices just loud enough for her to still hear them.

She knew who they were talking about, it was all anybody was talking about.

 _"You've heard then, haven't you? They say we'll go to war to get her back."_

She sighed. It was getting late, Henuttawy would expect her back soon and she still hadn't done any of the shopping.

 **xXx**

Across the sea in the Hittite dining hall, I felt the weight of everyone's eyes like a brand. It was uncomfortable and stifling, and I had to resist the urge to shrink in on myself as Ismirs' mother and sister, along with the gaggle of visiting dignitaries' wives hid painted smirks behind their hands and tittered about my shameful background. _The pharaohs whore, so much less impressive in person. Neither beautiful nor alluring, just what had I done to curry the pharaohs favor when Milanun had been denied._ It was a struggle to straighten my spine and stare ahead, to act unaffected. But I had to. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing that their hateful words affected me.

I pitied Ismirs' mother. There was a sorrow in her eyes that even hate couldn't hide, and I wondered if this is how my own mother had felt after Carol and I had gone missing. So, I didn't shy away from her gaze, despite the fact that I very much wanted to. But I couldn't look at her either. I focused on the others instead, and my disgust at their sneering grins and not-so-subtle insults covered up how I actually felt like an ill-applied bandage. One I didn't want to think about unraveling.

The actual dignitaries were no better than their wives. They had laughed as I walked in. Hooted and hollered all sorts of crude comments I hadn't expected hear in such a formal setting, but were allowed because it was directed at me, and well, I was less than human to these people. The way Ismir had dragged it out, had smiled and spun me around to their taunts before allowing me to sit had my eyes burning with the shame of it all. A symbol, he had called me. I felt more like an outlet for their hate and dissatisfaction towards Egypt. Towards Memphis. His success was seen as undeserved, and his lack of social graces regarding diplomatic matters had made him no friends among neighboring empires. Assyria was represented here I knew, and well as Arabia and Babylon. There were a few others, and they all bonded over wine and mutual dislike. I wondered at how long this had all been brewing and if Milanuns death had only been the premature catalyst to something long in the making.

I could feel myself tremble, and I wasn't the only one who noticed. Ismirs hand brushed against my own under the table, and as I stared at him out of the corner of my eye, watching him drink his wine and laugh at something his father said, I knew it was done less to comfort me and more to make sure I kept myself in line.

"A bold thing you've done, stealing this gem right from underneath it's owner nose." One man crowed, hands hitting the table in his glee. I hadn't listened to the names when Ismir had introduced me, and I didn't try to remember. Instead I watched with undisguised distain as the fat around his face giggled as he leaned forward to leer at me. A meaty, bejeweled hand reached out to brush across my shoulder, and the feel of his sweaty fingers made my skin crawl. "I can't imagine the young pharaoh is pleased."

"No, he most certainly isn't." Ismir agreed. He laughed and slipped an arm around me, pulling me out of reach and deflecting the glare he received from the other man with a drunken grin, "I still have informants stationed in Egypt, and they have all reported a most satisfying sense of discord and chaos surrounding him. As well as unrest taking root amongst his people."

My heart hurt at the mention of Memphis, and at the way they spoke of him. Their casual dismissal of his station made my blood burn, and the fire only grew as I listen to them continue to slander him, the insults getting less creative, yet no less insulting the longer the night wore on.

An older man bent and crooked, who had so far been speaking with Ismirs father spoke up after a while, his face flushed red with wine. "What a testament to your cunning Ismir! That you managed to sneak in, wound him even, kill his guard, steal his woman and get away with no a single casualty to your own men. You are a true credit to the empire."

 _Wound him?_ My mind flashed to the attack against Memphis, the stabbing that had taken place only a few days before my own abduction and I felt it all click into place. I turned to Ismir, eyes wide with disbelief _because of course it had been him._ What better way to cause pandemonium than to attack the king? And while it may have increased security around him, it had decreased my own. Isis had made sure of that. I was an irritating drain of resources where her brother was concerned.

She could care less about my safety, and her insistence that every able-bodied man be there to guard the pharaoh had left the perfect opening to sneak into my all but abandoned wing. _No one had heard me scream because there was no one there_. I thought of the two dead guards they'd left in the hall and wanted to cry. They had been casualties to a much bigger scheme. Isis had probably planed this with Ismir, the vindictive bitch.

I wondered how Ismir would feel if that were true and I told him who had really killed his sister. I wondered how Isis would feel once she realized Memphis would be putting himself in the line of fire to get me back.

"It is not so much an indicator of my own skill," Ismir chuckled, winking at the other male over the rim of his glass, "but of Memphis's own lack thereof. It was almost too easy to sneak in. I expected more from an empire as famed as Egypt is, though I guess no less can be expected when someone as incompetent as he is on the throne." The whole table laughed; great heaves of air, gasping as only drunken fools can, and I felt my anger burn too hot to be ignored.

"Memphis is a great king, and Egypt is an empire that stands above all others… certainly above all of you. Memphis's army is undefeated, his lands more prosperous than any other, his wealth is more than you'll ever see… he is greater than you in every way." I waited until they had stopped laughing, and though I hadn't spoken loudly, I knew that they all heard me. I knew it in the way that that same old man's face turned beet red, and the shocked silence of all their wives. I knew it in the way Ismir tensed up beside me. They were blessedly silent, for a moment, and then Ismirs father grinned, a flash of teeth that seemed more a threat than an expression.

"Great?" He asked, looking at me for the first that evening. "Nothing about that boy king is great. His army was his father's doing, his lands gained through others conquest and his wealth amassed by advisors much smarter than he is. What has he ever done that has been great?"

He set his cup down, and the sound of metal hitting wood echoed. "I sent my eldest daughter, who was beautiful and refined, _royalty_ , to broker peace and create a lasting bond between our two kingdoms… and he rejected her for _you._ As insulting as that very fact is it is made only worse by the fact that she never returned home. She is dead. Perhaps Memphis killed her… perhaps he did not, but she was under his care all the same." His voice went soft, but his eyes never wavered. "He is a fool, a witless child, and I will see him punished for his mistakes."

I swallowed, but my throat was dry, and my tongue felt leaden. "Well you've lost your chance. You'll never get close to him again. Your window into the palace closed as you took me. So, what's the point to all of this? If you wanted to send a message you could have just killed me and dumped my body back on his doorstep."

"That we'll never get as close to him again as Ismir was is true. But we don't need to. So, _the point?_ " He mocked me. "That's easy. I want to draw him out. Lure him away from his city and his walls to a place he won't be able to hide anymore. I want to go to war." The others leaned in, an air of satisfied anticipation settling around the room. "Killing you would certainly be enough to do that, but I want him on the battlefield himself. Sword drawn. Ready to save you, the woman he loves. Yes, I could kill you, I could have had you killed then, but the look on his face as you're dragged before him, having him watch you die even though he is only a few steps away from you, and still be unable to do anything is so much better than killing you now."

The Hittite king waved a servant over, and my stomach turned as the red of the wine poured into his glass shone in a way that was all too reminiscent of blood. "You're doubtful, I can see it. But make no mistake, he _will_ start a war to get you back. He will rush in, emotions high, and he will be so consumed with the thought of you as our prisoner that he'll slip up, and it might just be the type of slip up that reveals itself to be fatal."

There were shouts of agreement and encouragement from the others. The woman tittered and complimented his plan. But me? I felt numb, like I was in shock.

Memphis would go to war to get me back. _What a fool._ But he was my fool, and it hit me that I could admit, even if it was just to myself, that I might love him just the tiniest bit for it. I loved him – just a little – and he was walking into a trap for my sake. I couldn't let that happen.

So, when I looked up and met Unasu's eyes from across the hall, I didn't feel anything but relieved. I quickly masked my surprise, not wanting to draw attention and gave a subtle, barely-there nod of recognition. He nodded back, face serious, and lifted a hand. A copper key was clutched in his fingers.

The key to my door.

I dropped my gaze, looking down into my lap to hide the small smile I could feel forming there, because maybe, just maybe, we might make it out of here before it was too late.


End file.
